Of course they went to Will first to see if he knew of The Cannon's wherabouts, since he was the only resident with the reputation of Cannon-hater. He claimed ignorance and they went away empty-handed. Nowhere near The Cannon's place of honor in the middle of town was there so much as a wheel-track or a scuff mark in the gravel to point the way to its abductor. With heavy hearts, the citizens of Ada proceeded to celebrate Independence Day without the acrid blast of black smoke from the ancient barrel and its heart-stopping concussion.

Years went by. Will and Verne's son James grew up, married, and had three children. After many stress-free Independence Day celebrations, Will passed away.

Eventually the remaining members of the family decided to sell the store, the house and property and leave the state. Still more years went by. Finally, since it had not been used in more than 50 years, and was feared to be a danger to every man or beast who went near it, the family's old icehouse was torn down. On the very lowest level, as successfully hidden as if it had been submerged in the deepest channel of the mighty Thornapple, stood The Cannon, where Will had put it. How he moved it there, in silence, with no help, and without leaving a single footprint, are secrets he took with him to his grave.