Occasionally the dark figure skulking among the shadows came to little
patches of bright moonlight, and to cross these he lay flat on the
ground and writhed his way through the grass like a snake. A close
observer would have noticed a dull, steady glow which came from a round
object that the skulker carried with great care. If he had been near
enough he would have seen that this was a large gourd, in which, on a
bed of sand, were a quantity of live coals taken from one of the fires
that still smouldered about the epola, or place of dancing. In his
other hand the man carried a few fat-pine splinters that would burn
almost like gun-powder.
At length, without having attracted attention from any one of the
encamped Indians, or the drowsy guards upon whom they depended for
safety, the figure reached the granary, and disappeared amid the dark
shadows of its walls. Crouching to the ground, and screening his gourd
of coals with his robe, he thrust into it one end of the bundle of
fat-pine splinters and blew gently upon them. They smoked for a
minute, and then burst into a quick blaze.
Beginning at one end of the granary, this torch was applied to the dry
thatch that covered it, and it instantly sprang into flame. As the
figure ran along the end of the structure, around the corner, and down
the entire length of its side, always keeping in the shadow, he applied
the torch in a dozen places, and then flinging it on top of the low
roof, where it speedily ignited the covering, he bounded away into the
darkness, uttering, as he did so, a long-drawn, ear-piercing yell of
triumph.
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