“True! But if we make a sortie? Even were we to lose men, if they could only spike that dragon of hell.” Just then some form looked dark in the fog, and Babinich appeared near the speakers. “I saw that some one was speaking; but faces cannot be distinguished three yards away,” said he. “Good evening, revered father! But of what is the conversation?” “We are talking of that gun. Pan Charnyetski advises a sortie. These fogs are spread by Satan; I have commanded an exorcism.” “Dear father,” said Pan Andrei, “since that gun has begun to shake the wall, I am thinking of it, and something keeps coming to my head. A sortie is of no use. But let us go to some room; there I will tell you my plans.” “Well,” said the prior, “come to my cell.” Soon after they were sitting at a pine table in Kordetski’s modest cell. Charnyetski and the priest were looking carefully into the youthful face of Babinich, who said,— “A sortie is of no use in this case. They will see it and repulse it. Here one man must do the work.” “How is that?” asked Charnyetski. “One man must go and burst that cannon with powder; and he can do it during such fogs. It is best that he go in disguise. There are jackets here like those worn by the enemy. As it will not be possible to do otherwise, he will slip in among the Swedes; but if at this side of the trench from which the gun is projecting there are no soldiers, that will be better still.” “For God’s sake! what will the man do?” “It is only necessary to put a box of powder into the mouth of the gun, with a hanging fuse and a thread to be ignited. When the powder explodes, the gun—devil I wanted to say—will burst.” “Oh, my son! what do you say? Is it little powder that they thrust into it every day, and it does not burst?” Kmita laughed, and kissed the priest on the sleeve of his habit. “Beloved father, there is a great heart in you, heroic and holy—” “Give peace now!” answered the prior. “And holy,” repeated Kmita; “but you do not understand cannon. It is one thing when powder bursts in the butt of the cannon, for then it casts forth the ball and the force flies out forward, but another if you stop the mouth of a gun with powder and ignite it,—no cannon can stand such a trial. Ask Pan Charnyetski. The same thing will take place if you fill the mouth of a cannon with snow and fire it; the piece will burst. Such is the villanous power of powder. What will it be when a whole box of it explodes at the mouth? Ask Pan Charnyetski.” “That is true. These are no secrets for soldiers,” answered Charnyetski. “You see if this gun is burst,” continued Kmita, “all the rest are a joke.” “This seems impossible to me,” said Kordetski; “for, first, who will undertake to do it?” “A certain poor fellow,” said Kmita; “but he is resolute, his name is Babinich.” “You!” cried the priest and Charnyetski together.