"A wonderful shot," he said; "but how learned you that trick, friend Gil? I thought we should never see the ball again." "From throwing stones," said Gil, smiling. "If a stone should bound along the surface, why not a shot? That is the deadliest shot to my mind, Master Cobbe, that one could send at an enemy's ship, and it was bravely fired." "Of course," said the founder, proudly. "If my child knew that I had made the powder, and my hands had designed and fashioned the piece, she felt she would have naught to fear. And now for a shell." "Yes," said Gil, thoughtfully; "now for a shell. You think your piece will fire one straight, Master Cobbe, as well as a mortar throws one in a half-circle through the air?" "I do," said the founder. "I lay my life on it." "Then," said Gil, "I'd like to try my plan at the same time." "What may that be, my lad?" "Well, sir, it is this," said Gil. "You load your piece, then you prepare your well-charged shell, with a piece of slow match in its eye." "Yes." "And according to whether that is long or short, so is the time before it bursts the shell." "Exactly, my lad." "And you light the fuse or match before you place it in the howitzer." "How else could you do it, my lad?" "That we will try," said Gil. "I propose that you load the piece as you would a common gun, and then put in the shell with its fuse unlit." "Why, that's no better than a shot," cried Wat Kilby. "Nay, old lad, the powder would fire the match when the piece went off, and thus all the awkward preparation would be saved." "My faith, Gil," said the founder, smiling, "it's a grand idea, and you shall try it; for if it succeeds there ought to be a big reward for the man who invents such a plan." "Let's try, then," said Gil, quietly; and, with Wat Kilby's help, the piece was recharged, a shell filled with powder, and, with its fuse towards the charge, rammed home. Then the great piece was laid so that it commanded the broad tub set up as a mark. "I reckon," said Gil, "that this shell should burst just about when it strikes that mark, which should be shattered to pieces; and, if an enemy's ship, or a fortress, terribly crippled by the effect." "Good, my lad, it should," said the founder, smiling. Without another word, Gil carefully adjusted the piece; the linstock was again handed to Mace, and, hiding a shudder, for her father's sake she once more fired the great gun, and after a few moments, as the roar rolled like thunder over the Pool, the founder exclaimed-- "A failure, Gil, a--" _Crash_! From a mile away came the roar of the bursting shell, like an echo of the first shot. "A success, sir, a success; but we wanted a quarter the fuse," said Gil, smiling.