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with it; it shall belong to both of you, both of you.’
‘No, I don’t want it to belong to both of us; I want it to
be mine altogether, not Ilusha’s,’ persisted mamma, on the
point of tears.
‘Take it, mother, here, keep it!’ Ilusha cried. ‘Krassotkin,
may I give it to my mother?’ he turned to Krassotkin with
an imploring face, as though he were afraid he might be of-
fended at his giving his present to someone else.
‘Of course you may,’ Krassotkin assented heartily, and,
taking the cannon from Ilusha, he handed it himself to
mamma with a polite bow. She was so touched that she
cried.
‘Ilusha, darling, he’s the one who loves his mammal’ she
said tenderly, and at once began wheeling the cannon to
and fro on her lap again.
‘Mamma, let me kiss your hand.’ The captain darted up
to her at once and did so.
‘And I never saw such a charming fellow as this nice boy,’
said the grateful lady, pointing to Krassotkin.
‘And I’ll bring you as much powder as you like, Ilusha.
We make the powder ourselves now. Borovikov found out
how it’s made- twenty-four parts of saltpetre, ten of sulphur
and six of birchwood charcoal. It’s all pounded together,
mixed into a paste with water and rubbed through a tammy
sieve-that’s how it’s done.’
‘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.’

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