The fire flared, dimmed, burned bright again, as though some one had piled on dry brush.

I caught up the glasses and watched the light for a full minute.

They were good glasses,--I ought to have seen the flicker of flames; but I did not.
Just the reddish yellow glow and no more.
"Must be fox fire," I said, feeling impatient because that did not satisfy me at all, but having no other explanation that I could think of handy.
"I've seen wonderful exhibitions of it in low, swampy ground--" Casey spat into the dark.

"I never heard of nobody boggin' down, up there on Tippipah." He put his cold pipe in his mouth, removed it and gestured with it toward the light.

"I've seen jack-o'-lanterns myself.