Down the steep stairs Don went on all fours. In the kitchen he found the candlestick, but he did not light it until he had opened the door to the cellar. Half-way down the old steps he paused, undecided whether to go the rest of the way. Then he took another step, but it required courage. The flickering light of the candle sent grotesque, ghostlike shadows dancing along the walls, like great unearthly black vultures. He wondered whether he were doing right and then wished that Jud were with him. But, taking a fresh grip on himself, he went the rest of the way. Trembling with nervousness, he set the candle on a box and looked about him. All around lay the goods that David Hollis had bought in a hasty moment--large bales and small bales piled side by side and on top of one another. With shaking fingers Don examined them, going quickly from one to another. Then suddenly he came upon the powder; there were one small keg and seven canvas bags of it lying close to the foot of the steps. He lifted the keg and then lifted one of the bags; the keg was much the heavier. “Now what shall I do with the stuff?” he wondered. For a few moments he stood in deep thought. The old cellar was cold and damp, and a draft from somewhere was stirring the flame of the candle. “I know,” he said at last and bent over the keg again. With an effort he lifted it and started up the stairs. In a moment or two he no longer felt cold. It was no easy task to get that heavy keg up the stairs. From step to step he half rolled, half lifted it, and in a few minutes he was sweating with the exertion. Another thing that made the work hard was that he did not dare make any noise. At last he got the keg to the top, and then after a brief rest he carried it through the room to the back shed, the door to which had only a latch. There he found another candle, and lighting it, set it on the floor. Five minutes later he had the keg hidden well at the back of the woodpile. Then he returned for the bags. One at a time he carried them--all seven of them--up the steps and stowed them close to the keg. Having covered them well with the wood and having snuffed both candles, he returned to his room and began hastily to undress. He was congratulating himself on not having disturbed anyone when he heard the voice of his aunt: “Donald, are you awake?” Don paused in the act of removing his shirt. He did not reply at once. “Donald!” “Uh-hm,” said Don. “There--you _are_ awake!” “Didn’t you hear a noise down-stairs a few minutes ago?” “Noise? H’m--what noise?” Don was in bed by this time and had the covers well round his head. He heard his aunt sigh heavily. How could her nephew sleep so soundly? The good woman was really sorry that she had wakened him! It was not long before Don was asleep indeed. Nor did he waken when Snell and Hawkins descended the stairs in the morning. Aunt Martha had to call him four times before he roused and crawled sleepily from his bed.