Now, let me see what sort of a trail-concealer I am." Tom laid the wire back in the ground, covering it carefully with his hands.
"I wish I dared strike a match, so that I could judge better just how my work looks," he sighed.

"However, I don't believe Mr.Sambo Ebony will think it discreet to strike any matches either, so he won't find the place where I've been fooling with his work.
"Now, I'll get back out of sight, where I belong," muttered Tom, rising cautiously.

"I hope, though, I can find a place where I can see the look on that darkey's face when he tries his magneto and waits for the bing! from out yonder.

Oh, Sambo, you simply can't have any idea of how I've been wishing it on you tonight!" As the bushes grew thickly hereabouts, and there were many hollows in the surface of the earth, Reade had little trouble in finding what he believed to be a satisfactory hiding place.

It enabled him to hide his head within fifteen feet of the handle of the magneto.
A soft, southerly wind blew in from the Gulf.