Jonas the blacksmith, a clever fellow in his way, drilled out a broken nipple in the bird-keeper’s muzzle-loading gun, working the drill with a bow. Bevis and Mark, always on the watch everywhere, saw him do it. They cut a notch or hole in the hard surface of the thicker bough, and shaped another piece of wood to a dull point to fit in it. Bevis took this, placed it against the string of his bow, and twisted the string round it. Then he put the point of the stick in the hole; Mark held the bough firm on the ground, but immediately he began to work the bow backwards and forwards, rotating the drill alternate ways, he found that the other end against which he pressed with his chest would quickly fray a hole in his jacket. They had to stop and cut another piece of wood with a hole to take the top of the drill, and Bevis now pressed on this with his left hand (finding that it did not need the weight of his chest), and worked the bow with his right. The drill revolved swiftly, it was really very near the savages’ fire-drill; but the expected flame did not come. The wood was not dry enough, or the point of friction was not accurately adjusted; the wood became quite hot, but did not ignite. You may have the exact machinery and yet not be able to use it, the possession of the tools does not make the smith. There is an indefinite something in the touch of the master’s hand which is wanting. Bevis flung down the bow without a word, heaving a deep sigh of rage. “Flint and steel,” said Mark presently. “Hum!” “There’s a flint in the gateway,” continued Mark. “I saw it just now; and you can knock it against the end of your knife--” “You stupe; there’s no tinder.” “No more there is.” “I hate it--it’s horrid,” said Bevis. “What’s the use of trying to do things when everything can’t be done?” He sat on his heels as he knelt, and looked round scowling. There was the water--no fire to be obtained from thence; there was the broad field--no fire there; there was the sun overhead. “Go home directly, and get a burning-glass--unscrew the telescope.” “Is it proper?” said Mark, not much liking the journey. “It’s not matches,” said Bevis sententiously. Mark knew it was of no use, he had to go, and he went, taking off his jacket before he started, as he meant to run a good part of the way. It was not really far, but as his mind was at the hollow all the while the time seemed twice as long. After he had gone Bevis soon found that the sunshine was too warm to sit in, though while they had been so busy and working their hardest they had never noticed it. Directly the current of occupation was interrupted the sun became unbearable. Bevis went to the shadow of the sycamores, taking the skinned bird with him, lest a wandering beast of prey--some weasel or jackal--should pounce on it.