paraffin.

Bensington worked like a conscientious navvy. He had a sort of climax of
exhilaration and energy towards two o'clock. When in the work of
destruction he wielded an axe the bravest fled his neighbourhood.
Afterwards he was a little sobered by the temporary loss of his
spectacles, which were found for him at last in his side coat-pocket.

Men went to and fro about him--grimy, energetic men. Cossar moved
amongst them like a god.

Bensington drank that delight of human fellowship that comes to happy
armies, to sturdy expeditions--never to those who live the life of the
sober citizen in cities. After Cossar had taken his axe away and set him
to carry wood he went to and fro, saying they were all "good fellows."
He kept on--long after he was aware of fatigue.

At last all was ready, and the broaching of the paraffin began. The
moon, robbed now of all its meagre night retinue of stars, shone high
above the dawn.

"Burn everything," said Cossar, going to and fro--"burn the ground and
make a clean sweep of it. See?"

Bensington became aware of him, looking now very gaunt and horrible in
the pale beginnings of the daylight, hurrying past with his lower jaw
projected and a flaring torch of touchwood in his hand.

"Come away!" said some one, pulling Bensington's arm.