“What are these for?” they asked, in chorus.
“Torches.”
“But I never saw any like these,” exclaimed Ki Yi, examining his braid sceptically.
“No go out easy, no burn too quick.”
And without other explanation, Nig lighted his, and, dismounting, began to kindle a row of fires in such a direction that the increasing wind would sweep them down upon the retreat of the Midnight Raider.
At first, it was necessary to rekindle the fires in several places, especially where the cowpunchers had applied their torches. But, at last, being shown how to avoid the wet undergrass and light only the dry tops and the upper part of the underbrush, they soon had a leaping wall of flame raging through the swamp.
As the wind steadily grew stronger, Nig’s face was wreathed in smiles.
“Palefaces watch out, we get Louie, sure,” he chuckled. “Came near not, though,” he added. “When we coming round by teppee he come nigh smelling us.”
“How was that? We weren’t anywhere near his teppee, were we?” asked Deadshot, surprised at the thought.
“Uhuh. Mebbe ten feet, mebbe rod.”