Hitch opened the furnace door and laid twenty-four large sky-rockets on the hot ashes, and left the door open.
Figger Bush opened a package of roman-candles, scooped up a shovel of live coals from the furnace, and laid it beside the package.
Skeeter lighted the fuses of half a dozen immense cannon-crackers and dropped them carelessly near the sleeping form of Pipe Smash.
Then the three hid themselves where they could see without being seen.
The cannon-crackers exploded with a detonation which reverberated from the immense woods, shook every piece of wood in the fragile boat, and sounded like a little war.
Pipe Smash awoke from his deep dream of peace with a loud yelp. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, wondering what had happened.
Instantly a trail of red fire, started by Skeeter Butts, changing to blue, yellow, green, and white, spun like a flaming snake around the deck of the boat, and Pipe Smash lay back on the deck, whirling over and over like a worm on a hot griddle, whooping like a siren.
From out of the furnace door twenty-four skyrockets roared, shot out over Pipe’s head, struck the deck with a hiss changing to a loud screech, ricochetted around the boat, and burst into ten thousand stars against the puny smoke-stack and the fragile roof.
In a split second Pipe Smash was as crazy as a bug with fright.
He spun around that boat-deck like a cat in a fit, squalled and spat and screeched and scratched, rolled and tumbled, jumped to his feet and kicked, fell flat on his back, rolled over, crawled on all fours, and performed every stunt within the range of physical activity.