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.
By the time the nodding guards had discovered the flames and given the alarm, the whole granary was in a blaze, and the startled Indians, who rushed out from the lodges and palmetto booths, could do nothing but stand helpless and gaze at the destruction of their property.

All asked how it had happened, and who had done this thing, but not even the guards could offer the slightest explanation.
Meantime the author of all this mischief stopped when he had gained what he considered a safe distance from the fire, and, concealed by the friendly shadows of the forest, stood with folded arms and scowling features gazing at the result of his efforts.

At length the light from the burning building grew so bright that even the shadow in which he stood began to be illuminated, and he turned to go away.