“Of course I can.”
“What mought they be?”
“It is a peculiar characteristic of that sort of gas, that it is visible to the eye at night in this form. You have heard of the light of the Jack-o’-lantern or will-o’-the-wisp?”
“Sartin.”
“Well, this is explained in much the same manner. That is the outcome of swamp gas and practically harmless, but this gas undoubtedly has anaesthetic properties and swoons one to death, just as too much chloroform would.”
The trapper listened respectfully, but the superstitious element was too deeply imbued in his nature to allow of his accepting Frank’s explanation at once.
“That sounds all right, pard,” he declared, “but I’ll be doggoned if I’d want to go down thar.”
“To the contrary it is quite safe in my belief to go down thar at night.”
The trapper gasped with amazement.
“Are ye mad, pard?”