“Yes, but what of that?”
“Why this,” said Tom; “if the fire breaks out again, it will be because this fellow has set it alight.”
Pete’s features contracted, and without another word he slouched away into the wood and disappeared, followed by his dog.
“I say, you hit him there, Tom,” said Sam, with a laugh. “Think he would have done it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Well, a bit of a bonfire wouldn’t have done much harm.”
“What!” cried Tom, looking at his cousin aghast. “Why, hundreds of acres of fir-trees might have been burnt. Uncle said there was a small patch burned one year, and there is so much turpentine in the trees, that they roared away like a furnace, and if they had not stood alone, the mischief would have been terrible.”
“Then you think that chap had set the furze alight before we came.”
“No, I don’t,” cried Tom sharply, “for I saw you throw a burning wax-match amongst them, only I was so stupid I never thought of going to tread upon it.”
“Yes, you always were precious chuckle-headed,” cried Sam, with a laugh. “But I don’t believe it was my match. If it had gone on burning, and there had been a row, I should have laid the blame on him.”