"Masked, hey? to protect launching and prevent approach by water; they _are_ fixed up mighty nice! And here goes the slope of the hill to the fort." "No, dat's de ravelin, de covered way, an' de par'pet." "As far down as this, Uncle Ephraim? surely not!" "Now, ye ain't so much ez chipped de shell ob dis soldierin' business, ye nuffin' but a onhatched deedie! An' yere I been takin' ye fur a perfessed soldier-man! You lissen! _yere_ is de covered way ob de ravelin, outside ob a redoubt, whar dey got a big traverse wid a powder-magazine built into it. I been up dar when dis artillery captain sent his wagons arter his ammunition." "About where is the magazine located?" demanded Julius, gravely intent. "Jes' dar--dar--" "No, no!" cried the Confederate officer, in a loud, elated voice. The old servant caught him by the sleeve, trembling and with a warning finger lifted. Then they were both silent, intently listening. The sunlight across the garret floor lay still, save for the bright bar of glittering, dancing motes. The tall aspen tree by the window made no sound as it touched the pane with its white velvet buds. A wasp noiselessly flickered up and down the glass. Absolute quietude, save for a gentle, continuous murmur of voices in conversation in the library below. "I'se gwine ter take myse'f away from yere," said old Janus, loweringly, his eyes full of reproach, his nerves shaken by the sudden fright. "Ye ain't fitten fur dis yere soldierin' business; jes' pipped de shell. You gwine ter git yerself cotched by dat ar Yankee man whut we-all done loaded ourself up wid, an' _den_ whar will ye be? He done got well enough ter knock down a muel, an' I dunno _why_ he don't go on back ter his camp. Done wore out his welcome yere, good-fashion!" But Julius had entirely recovered from the _contretemps_. He was gazing in fixed intentness at the map drawn in the dust on the smooth, polished top of the cedar chest. "Uncle Ephraim," he said in an impressive whisper, "this powder-magazine is built right over a cave! I _know_, because there is a hole, a sort of grotto down in the grove, where you can go in; and in half a mile you come right up against the wall of my cousin Frank Devrett's cellar. We played off ghost tricks there one Christmas, the Devrett boys and me, singing and howling in the cave, and it made a great mystery in the house, frightening my Cousin Alice; but Cousin Frank was in the secret." "Gimme--gimme dat spoon! I don't keer if de Yankees built deir magazine in de _well_ instead ob de cellar. I'm gwine away 'fore dat widder 'oman begins arter me 'bout dat spoon an' bowl! Gimme de bowl, sah, it's de salad bowl!" "Oh, I see," still pondering on the map; "they utilized part of the cellar, the wine vault, blown out of the solid rock, for the bottom of the powder-magazine to save work, and then covered it over with the traverse, and--"