Chapter Two.
Is Still More Explosive than the First.
Much to my surprise, I found that neither Nicholas Naranovitsch nor Bella nor my mother would consent to witness my experiments with dynamite that day.
As my old chum approached to greet me on the lawn before breakfast the day following, I could not help admiring his fine, tall, athletic figure. I don’t know how it is, but I have always felt, somehow, as if I looked up at him, although we were both exactly the same height—six feet one without our boots. I suppose it must have been owing to his standing so erect, while I slouched a little. Perhaps my looking up to him mentally had something to do with it.
“You’ll come to-day, won’t you?” I said, referring to the experiments.
“Of course I will, old boy; but,” he added, with a smile, “only on one condition.”
“What may that be?”
“That you don’t bother Bella with minute details.”