Pepe and George had the bad habit of smoking, and Ken saw them burning the ticks off shirt-sleeves and trousers-legs, using the fiery end of their cigarettes. This feat did not puzzle Ken anything like the one where they held the red point of the cigarettes close to their naked flesh. Ken, and Hal, too, had to see that performance at close range.
"Why do you do that?" asked Ken.
"Popping ticks," replied George. He and Pepe were as sober as judges.
The fact of the matter was soon clear to Ken. The ticks stuck on as if glued. When the hot end of the burning cigarette was held within a quarter of an inch of them they simply blew up, exploded with a pop. Ken could easily distinguish between the tiny pop of an exploding pinilius and the heavier pop of a garrapato.
"But, boy, while you're taking time to do that, half a dozen other ticks can bite you!" exclaimed Ken.
"Sure they can," replied George. "But if they get on me I'll kill 'em. I don't mind the little ones--it's the big boys I hate."
On the other hand, Pepe seemed to mind most the pinilius.
"Say, from now on you fellows will be Garrapato George and Pinilius Pepe."
"Pretty soon you'll laugh on the other side of your face," said George. "In three days you'll be popping ticks yourself."
Just then Hal let out a yell and began to hunt for a tick that had bit him. If there was anything that could bother Hal Ward it was a crawling bug of some kind.