“Smurov told me about your powder, only father says it’s not real gunpowder,” responded Ilusha.
“Not real?” Kolya flushed. “It burns. I don’t know, of course.”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” put in the captain with a guilty face. “I only said that real powder is not made like that, but that’s nothing, it can be made so.”
“I don’t know, you know best. We lighted some in a pomatum pot, it burned splendidly, it all burnt away leaving only a tiny ash. But that was only the paste, and if you rub it through . . . but of course you know best, I don’t know . . . And Bulkin’s father thrashed him on account of our powder, did you hear?” he turned to Ilusha.
“We had prepared a whole bottle of it and he used to keep it under his bed. His father saw it. He said it might explode, and thrashed him on the
