"Have the creatures teeth?" asked Charley.
"No, of course not; but they have a sort of rasping apparatus which is just as bad. They have an acrid kind of saliva too, which they put into the wounds they make, and that is what smarts so. But come, this won't do. We must make a good smudge."
"What's a smudge?" asked Jack.
"I'll show you presently," answered Ned, while he began to build a small fire immediately in front of the tent. When it had burned a little, he smothered it with damp leaves and moss, so that it gave off a dense cloud of smoke which quickly filled the hut.
"Now the tent will soon be clear of them," said Ned.
"Sand-flies object to smoke, I suppose," said Jack.
"Very much indeed," answered Ned, "and it is customary here on the coast to have a pair of smudge boxes in front of every house."
"I don't blame them for objecting," grumbled Charley, coughing and wiping his smoke-inflamed eyes; "I can't say that I find smoke the most delightful atmosphere myself. But what is a 'smudge box,' Ned?"
"Simply a shallow box of earth set upon a post, to build a smudge upon."
"I say, Ned," asked Jack, "what do you mean by saying that sand-flies aren't gnats?"