"Dey are all handkerchiefs."
"Handkerchiefs?"
"Yes; de handkerchiefs of de population of Albano. Dey are as many as de days of de year."
"I should think so," cried Frank, in amazement. "But what are you going to do with them?"
"Do wit dem? I am going to make a smoke."
"A smoke? What? Are you going to burn them up?"
"Dere is notin else to burn; so I must burn what I can. See, I make a bundle of dese. I set fire to dem. Dey burn—dey smoke—and de boar smoke out. Aha! he suffocate—he expire—he run!"
"Well, if that isn't the greatest idea I ever heard of!" cried Frank. "Handkerchiefs! Why, you must have hundreds of them in that bundle."
The guide smiled, and made no answer. It was a brilliant idea. It was all his own. He was proud of it. He was pleased to think that the number of them was equal to the number of days in the year. Three hundred and sixty-five handkerchiefs collected from the good, the virtuous, the self-sacrificing people of Albano, who were now yelling and howling as before, at the rear of the house, and diversifying the uproar by loud calls and inquiries about the wild boar.
The guide smiled cheerily over the handkerchiefs. He was so proud of his original idea! He went calmly on, forming them into a rough bundle, doing it very dexterously, so that the bundle might be tight enough to hold together, yet loose enough to burn, Frank watched him curiously. So did Bob. So did Uncle Moses. So did Clive. So did David. Three hundred and sixty-five handkerchiefs! Only think of it!