Sometimes Earl would find a can of powder that had been wet or had sweated in the can and was lumpy. He was told to pile those cans out behind the mule barn and not try to use the lumpy powder. Well now, that pile of 12 or 15 cans of blasting powder, which no one wanted, seemed to me to be an excellent source of fun, as well as research material. So, unbeknowing to all others, I toted a can of the stuff home to our tent one day. Then I decided that Papa might frown on the idea of my having 50 pounds (or maybe it was 25 pounds) of powder about our tent, especially if he found it hidden under his bed, so I thought I had better do a lot of experimenting in as short a time as possible, before anyone else came home. I felt that any one of my brothers would scold me for taking a can of powder home to play with. And I was sure he would not be able nor willing to keep such news to himself. I'd better work fast and let it remain my own little secret. After all, muzzleloading a rifle was child's play as compared to playing with 50 pounds of blasting powder. So I'd better try to get by with this powder as I had gotten away with other secret adventures--all alone. How I longed to share some of my good times with my brothers, but I didn't dare try. Such secrets can only be kept by one person. A partner would be sure to spoil things. Sometimes a kid's reasoning without certain knowledge can lead to trouble. I reasoned that, since a big stick of wood burns slower and longer than a small stick, a large rick of powder would burn more slowly and thereby afford more pleasure and excitement. I even envisioned me walking along beside the burning powder as it wiggled and twisted here and there, as a snake would crawl across the pasture. I remembered the matches I had stood up in the sand at Grandma's, and how the flame had leaped from match to match until it reached the last one. And that's what I wanted to do with a string of powder--light it at one end and watch the flame slowly travel to the other end. I had plenty of powder so I piled it up into a rick about two inches high and as long as from here to yonder. And that was when I learned, by experience, that big powder burns faster than little powder. When I lighted one end of the powder- snake, it blasted fire and smoke right up into my face. I fell back quickly for protection. Then I reopened my eyes just in time to see my fireball fizzle out at the far end of the rick of powder. I hardly saw any of what happened--it was all gone in two or three seconds. I was glad no one else had seen it. Needless to say, that ended my monkeying around with powder, trying to play powder monkey.