"I was afraid of that," she said, catching the meaning of my look. "What
shall we do? We shall starve!"
"Not in the least," said I, stoutly. "We are good Indians enough to make
a fire, I hope."
In my sheath was a heavy hunting knife; and now, searching about us on
the side of the coulee bank, I found several flints, hard and white.
Then I tore out a bit of my coat lining and moistened it a trifle, and
saturated it with powder from my flask, rubbed in until it all was dry.
This niter-soaked fabric I thought might serve as tinder for the spark.
So then I struck flint and steel, and got the strange spark, hidden in
the cold stone ages and ages there on the Plains; and presently the
spark was a little flame, and then a good fire, and so we were more
comfortable.
We roasted meat now, flat on the coals, the best we might, and so we
ate, with no salt to aid us. The girl became a trifle more cheerful,
though still distant and quiet. If I rose to leave the fire for an
instant, I saw her eyes following me all the time. I knew her fears,
though she did not complain.
Man is the most needful of all the animals, albeit the most resourceful.
We needed shelter, and we had none.
Pages:
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239