'top now."

"Ah, they have found the powder keg," ejaculated Murray.

"No, sah. Dey all close 'longside and wait for more Massa Huggin man."

"Then I will not fire yet."

"No, sah. Caesar fink dey watch see Murray Frank, want know what um do.
All talkee palaver. No fire yet."

"I must fire soon," whispered the lad, in a strangely excited tone of
voice, which sounded as if he were being suffocated.

"No; Murray Frank not fire yet," whispered the black, in eager tones.
"Wait plenty more Huggins man come. Yes," he whispered, as a burst of
voices as of many of the enemy hurrying up could be heard; and then
above all came the strangely familiar tones of one who had been leading
the newly-arrived party, and Murray started violently as there fell upon
his ear in fierce adjuration--

"Wall, why are you waiting? In with you, curse you, and finish them
off!"

The black started back to retreat into the house, but Murray extended
his left hand and caught him by the shoulder.

"Where are you going?" he whispered.

"Run!" was the reply. "Massa Huggin."

"Not yet," whispered Murray. "Is it time now?"

The lad's calm words had the effect of steadying the trembling black as
they listened, and his voice was no longer the same as he said firmly
now--

"Yes, massa. Time now. Fire!"

Murray thrust the black from him as he snatched the light from behind
the door, took a couple of steps towards the enemy, and stooped down
with the candle burning blue and seeming to become extinct as the lad
touched the path. Then there was a bright flash as the powder caught,
sputtered and began to run, lighting up the figure of the midshipman in
the act of dashing in through the doorway, a score of bullets rattling
after him in answer to an order; and then the door closed with a heavy
bang.

Darkness within and a blaze of light without, where the voice of the
Yankee could be heard shouting orders which rose above the buzzing
fluttering noise of the running train.

"Hurt, Mr Murray, sir?"

"No! Where's the black?"

_Crash_!

A fierce burst as of thunder, and the just-closed door was dashed in,
while the hall and staircase were filled with light.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

WHAT THE POWDER DID.

The horrible dank odour of exploded gunpowder; a blinding smoke; thick
darkness; a strange singing in the ears, and then, in connection with a
sensation as of having been struck down and stunned, an awful silence.

These were Mu