"See to the other guns on the north-east and south-west towers." "Yes, sir. What's to be done with the two as was slung down when Master Pawson's rooms was furnished?" "Sling them up again," cried Roy, promptly. "It is necessary now." Ben gave his leg a slap and looked his satisfaction. "Wouldn't like the two big guns hoisted over the gate-way, sir, I s'pose?" "No, certainly not," cried Roy; "they will be of more value to sweep the approach of the castle. I'll have them kept there. Plenty of room to fire on each side of the drawbridge if it's up, and the muzzles would run through the square openings in the portcullis." Old Ben stared at him round eyed, and shook his head; then he chuckled softly, and, muttering to himself his former words, "He'll do," he led the men to the south-west tower, upon whose platform three brass guns were mounted, and then to the north-east, where there were three more. Twelve guns in all for the defence of the castle; but the question was, would the ammunition be of any use? Balls there were in abundance, for, in addition to piles standing pyramidally at the foot of each tower, half-covered now by flowers and shrubs, there were similar piles close to the carriage of each gun. But the vital force of the gun, the energy that should set the ball whizzing through the air, was the question, and to prove this, Ben asked for an order, and then walked with his young captain to the armoury, where he opened the great closet. One of the kegs was brought out and set down upon the broad oak table. "I've been thinking, sir, that perhaps it would be best to fire the big guns under the gate-way to-night." "Why?" asked Roy. "Because we know their carriages are right, and I'm a bit doubtful about those upon the tower." "Very well; try the powder in those." "Yes, I hope I shall," said Ben; "but I'm a bit scared, sir." "What! about the danger of opening the keg?" "Tchah! no, sir. I can open that safely enough. It only means loosening the two hoops at the end, and then the heading will slip out. I mean this--the barrels have been down there no one knows how long, and what I want to know is, will it be powder after all?" "Not powder after all!" cried Roy in astonishment, as his active mind began to question what liquor it could be there that was stored up so carefully as if it were a treasure indeed. "I'm afraid it won't be, sir--very much afraid." "Then what do you think it is?" "Solid blocks o' stony stuff, sir, I should say." "But they don't put stony stuff in kegs like these." "No, sir, powder; but perhaps it has got damp with time and hardened so as it won't be of any use." "Not if it's dried and ground up again."