I want it to burn till it's nearly ready, and then heave it down right amongst 'em.

Make some on 'em squint." "Throw it--throw it," panted Mark hoarsely.
"Nay, not yet.

They'd see it burning, and tread it out.

Here, you let me have it.

I'll hold it to the last minute, and when I throw, you duck yourself down, or you might get burnt." Dummy took hold of the burning cord with his left hand, the bag with his right, pressing his companion out of the road, and then standing twitching the sparkling fuse, which was only a few inches away from the powder in the bag.
"I've often seen it done," he whispered.
A shout came up from the little court, for the followers of Captain Purlrose had again driven their battering ram through the great door, and a shout of defiance came back from the hall from a few voices, among which Mark recognised his father's; but he could not turn from that sparkling piece of line to glance over the stony battlement to see what was being done.