It developed presently that the grass and bushes on the camp-site contained millions of the ticks. Ken found several of the larger ticks--almost the size of his little finger-nail--but he did not get bitten. Pepe and George, however, had no such good luck, as was manifested at different times. By the time they had cut down the bushes and carried in a stock of fire-wood, both were covered with the little pests. Hal found a spot where there appeared to be none, and here he stayed. Pepe and George had the bad habit of smoking, and Ken saw them burning the ticks off shirt-sleeves and trousers-legs, using the fiery end of their cigarettes. This feat did not puzzle Ken anything like the one where they held the red point of the cigarettes close to their naked flesh. Ken, and Hal, too, had to see that performance at close range. “Why do you do that?” asked Ken. “Popping ticks,” replied George. He and Pepe were as sober as judges. The fact of the matter was soon clear to Ken. The ticks stuck on as if glued. When the hot end of the burning cigarette was held within a quarter of an inch of them they simply blew up, exploded with a pop. Ken could easily distinguish between the tiny pop of an exploding _pinilius_ and the heavier pop of a _garrapato_. “But, boy, while you’re taking time to do that, half a dozen other ticks can bite you!” exclaimed Ken. “Sure they can,” replied George. “But if they get on me I’ll kill ’em. I don’t mind the little ones--it’s the big boys I hate.” On the other hand, Pepe seemed to mind most the _pinilius_. “Say, from now on you fellows will be Garrapato George and Pinilius Pepe.” “Pretty soon you’ll laugh on the other side of your face,” said George. “In three days you’ll be popping ticks yourself.” Just then Hal let out a yell and began to hunt for a tick that had bit him. If there was anything that could bother Hal Ward it was a crawling bug of some kind. “I’ll have to christen you too, brother,” said Ken, gurgling with mirth. “A very felicitous name--Hollering Hal!” Despite the humor of the thing, Ken really saw its serious side. When he found the grass under his feet alive with ticks he cast about in his mind for some way to get rid of them. And he hit upon a remedy. On the ridge above the bench was a palm-tree, and under it were many dead palm leaves. These were large in size, had long stems, and were as dry as tinder. Ken lighted one, and it made a flaming hot torch. It did not take him long to scorch all the ticks near that camp. The boys had supper and enjoyed it hugely. The scene went well with the camp-fire and game-dinner. They gazed out over the foaming pool, the brawling rapids, to the tufted palm-trees, and above them the dark-blue mountain. At dusk Hal and George were so tired they went to bed and at once dropped into slumber. Pepe sat smoking before the slumbering fire.