The eyes of the pack followed the missile, and for a second each dog looked at the heap.

As they looked there was a report, and a mass of live embers was scattered high and wide, over them, over the opening, into the fringe of reeds.

With wild yelps of fear and pain the pack broke, and Compton groveled on the ground with his hands before his face, for he had flattened himself just in time to escape being blinded by the burning dust, some of which, however, did get into his eyes.

A little fly in the eye, as many a cyclist has found to his cost, is enough to engage the entire attention for five minutes, but a handful of ash gives more anguish to the square inch; and when Compton succeeded in opening his inflamed vision upon the scene, a transformation had happened in the writhing interval.

The air was full of a sharp crackling and little explosions, and the first thing he saw was a slender tongue of flame running up a tall reed, and quivering for a moment high above.