"But---" began Teall, a puzzled look on his face. Then---sniff!
sniff! "Queer stuff, that! What a stuffing smoke it makes.
I wonder what it is that burns with such a sharp smell?"
"It must be pitch," replied Dick Prescott, also sniffing. "Whew!
How sharp it is!"
Ted began to sneeze. Dick followed suit. Presently all of the
boys who were standing at all near the blazing pile found themselves
sneezing, coughing or sputtering at a great rate. Some of the
men, further away, caught the acrid fumes.
"This is a mean trick some one has played on us," cried Dick,
falling back before the stifling odors.
"I hope you don't think I did a mean thing like that?" demanded
Teall anxiously.
"I'm sure you didn't," Prescott answered. "You're full of tricks,
Ted Teall, but you're a real sportsman after you've been beaten."
"Say, can this possibly be any of Hi Martin's work?" demanded
Tom Reade, as the boys fell back steadily from the bonfire.
"Only one objection to suspecting Hi," retorted Teall.
"What's that?" asked Greg. "Too proud?"
"No," snapped Teall. "Hi hasn't brains enough to think up anything."
"This is just like boys. It's really what one gets for turning
out to a boys' bonfire!" growled one man between fits of coughing,
as he rapidly got away from the fire.
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