Then they watched again, while the logger went through with a lot of what seemed to George utterly useless actions, fixing the kindling up a little better. And finally he started to strike the match.
The boys held their breath as they saw it flame up.
“Now, look out, Fritz, or you’ll lose your eyebrows!” George was heard to mutter; as the logger leaned over to apply the little flame, which he had been shielding with both hands, after the manner of an old smoker.
“Wow!”
Josh did not mean to call out, but the cry was almost forced from his lips as he saw a vivid flash of fire, that seemed to jump as high as the roof of the little log shack.
“That was the gasolene!” remarked George, coolly.
“Fritz got stung, I guess, because he tumbled over backwards,” Josh ventured, as his opinion; but although Jack had imagined that something along those lines might have happened, he did not see the man show any signs of suffering, as he started to crawl away from the spot, glancing over his shoulder now and then, as if to reassure himself that everything was going well.
“Naw, he’s all right; Fritz kin be quick when he wants to get out o’ the way o’ things that hurts,” the fellow logger advanced.
“Wonder if she’s going to take hold?” Josh ventured, as he watched the fire eat into the kindling merrily.