"Looks as harmless as if it were full of arrow-root or mustard," said
Uncle Bob coolly. "Perhaps, after all, it is a scare."

I stood there with my teeth closed tightly, determined not to show fear,
even if the horrible stuff did blow up. For though there was no light
in the room, and the matches were in a cupboard, I could not get out of
my head the idea that the stuff _might_ explode, and it seemed terrible
to me for such a dangerous machine to be handled in what appeared to be
so reckless a way.

"Lid fits pretty tight," said Uncle Jack, trying to screw it off.

"Don't do that, old fellow," said Uncle Dick. "It would be grinding
some of the dust round, and the friction might fire it."

"Well, yes, it might," replied Uncle Jack. "Not likely though, and I
want to examine the powder."

"That's easily done, my boy. Pull that bit of fuse out of the hole, and
let some of the powder trickle out."

"Bravo! Man of genius," said Uncle Jack; and he drew out the plug of
fuse that went through the bottom of the canister.

As he did this over a sheet of paper a quantity of black grains like
very coarse dry sand began to trickle out and run on to the paper,
forming quite a heap, and as the powder ran Uncle Jack looked round at
his brother and smiled sadly.

"Not done to frighten us, eh, Bob!" he said. "If that stuff had been
fired the furnace-house and chimney would have been levelled."

"Why, Cob," said Uncle Dick, laying his hand affectionately upon my
shoulder. "You must be a brave fellow to have hauled that away from the
furnace."

"I did not feel very brave just now," I said bitterly. "When Uncle Jack
began to handle that tin I felt as if I must run away."

"But you didn't," said Uncle Bob, smiling at me.

"Is that gunpowder?" I said hastily, so as to change the conversation.

"No doubt of it, my lad," said Uncle Jack, scooping it up in his hand,
so that it might trickle through his fingers. "Strong blasting powder.
Shall I fire some and try?"

"If you like," I said sulkily, for it was, I knew, said to tease me.

"Well, what's to be done, boys?" said Uncle Jack. "Are we going to lay
this before the police? It is a desperate business!"

"Desperate enough, but we shall do no good, and only give ourselves a
great deal of trouble if we go to the law. The police might trace out
one of the offenders; but if they did, what then? It would not stop the
attempts to harm us. No: I'm of opinion that our