Cubical objects they were, some five inches on the edge, each enclosed in what seemed a tough, black, leather-like substance netted with stout white cords that were woven together into a handle at the top.
Strong as Bohannan was, his face grew red, with swollen veins in forehead and neck, as he tried to lift this small object.

Nothing in the way of any known substance could possibly have weighed so much; not even solid lead or gold.
"Faith!" grunted the major.

"What the devil?
These two little metal boxes didn't weigh a pound apiece when--ugh!--when we packed 'em in our bags.

How about it, chief ?" The Master smiled with amusement.
"They weren't magnetized then, Major," he answered.

"Shall I have someone help you ?" "No, by God! I'll either lift this thing or die, right here!" the Celt panted, redder still.