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I b'lieve she and that man with her set the fire that burned up my outfit." Frances herewith took part in the conversation. "Who set the grass-fire, in the first place?" she demanded. "I believe you did that, Ratty M'Gill. You were just reckless enough that day." "Aw, shucks!" said the young man, sheepishly. "But you haven't the same excuse to-day for being reckless," the girl said, earnestly.
"And yet, if that were a grass-fire, there'd be game and rats and birds and things some of 'em would bolt this way. That's the Doonha barracks burning or I'm a black man, which the Lord forbid!" A minute later, every man in the section pricked up his ears.
He struck a match and dropped it into a convenient tuft of grass in a likely patch of tufts, with dead grass running from it up into the scrubby ridges then he hurried on. Did you ever see a bush-fire? Not sheets of flame sweeping and roaring from tree-top to tree-top, but the snaky, hissing grass-fire of hardwood country.
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