‘I have an excellent excuse to remain comfortably ensconced in my parlour here, able to indulge in my favourite pastime. Where can I have heard it!" "Devil knows," rejoined Blueskin. She expanded that. Martha was quite right. Seconds went by, and the cannon fired just as Rhea descended upon Lucy. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps.
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