“I don’t know how the experiment would answer, Ned,” was the reply. “But it would be awkward to go plashing about in the mud and water to catch the fireflies, and we have no glass globe, while we have a lamp.”
The coruscations of the fireflies seemed to fascinate Ned so much that he became quite silent at last, while the Malays sat huddled together chewing their betel, and talking in a low subdued tone. Then Murray struck a match to light his pipe, and the flash showed Ned’s intent face.
“What’s the matter, boy?”
“I was trying to puzzle it out, uncle.”
“What?”
“Oh, there are three things,” said Ned, as the half-burned match described a curve and fell into the water to be extinguished with a hiss, looking as it flew something like one of the fireflies ashore, but of a ruddier tint.
“Well, philosopher,” said Murray, leaning over against the side of the boat, “let’s have some of your thoughts.”
“You’ll laugh at me.”
“No. Honour bright.”
“Well, uncle, first of all, I was wondering why those lights in the fireflies don’t burn them.”