“It is wet.”
The words were whispered in English.
He struck another match, listened an instant to make sure that the noise of the lighting had not attracted attention inside the cottage, and applied it to the fuse. The fuse burned swiftly, and the boy heard the incendiary go crashing through the tangle of vines and creepers, heading toward the south.
Ned cut the fuse above the crawling coal and stood for a moment listening to the man struggling with the undergrowth. Then he hastened into the cottage and laid a hand on Frank Shaw’s shoulder.
“Get up,” he whispered. “The fireworks have begun.”
Frank sat up in his bunk and rubbed his eyes sleepily.
“What is it?” he asked. “Have you found the necklace?”
“Dress, quick.”
“Wonder you wouldn’t let a fellow sleep,” grumbled Frank.
While the boys were dressing there came a snicker from Jimmie’s bed.