"O David!" was all that she could utter in response. "And so _you_ are troubled about me, are you? I'm only going to chase the will-o'-the-wisp a little while, and I could not do it, you know, until moon-down." "_O_ David!" and this time with emphatic pressure on his arm, "David, come home. _I_ can't let you go off alone." "Come with me, then. You're well blanketed, I see. I'd much rather have some one with me, only Ezra was tired and sleepy." He said this with so much of his accustomed manner that Mrs. Bushnell put her hand within his arm and went on, quite content now, and willing that he should speak when it pleased him to do so, and it pleased him very soon. "Little mother," he said, "I am afraid you are losing faith in me." "Never! David; only--I _was_ a little afraid that you were losing your own head, or faith in yourself." "No; but I _am_ afraid I've lost my faith in something else. I showed you the two bits of fox-fire that were crossed on one end of the needle in the compass, and the one bit made fast to the other? Well, to-day, when I went to the bottom of the river, the fox-fire gave no light, and the compass was useless. Can you understand how bad that would be under an enemy's ship, not to know in which direction to navigate?" "You must have fresh fire, then." "_That_ is just what I am out for to-night. I had to wait till the moon was gone." "Oh! is _that_ all? How foolish I have been! but you ought to tell me some things, sometimes, David." "And so I will. I tell you now that it will be well for you to go home and go to sleep. I may have to go deep into the woods to find the fire I want." But his mother only walked by his side a little faster than before, and on they went to a place where a bit of woodland had grown up above fallen trees. They searched in places wherein both had seen the fire of decaying wood a hundred times, but not one gleam of phosphorescence could be found anywhere. At last they turned to go homeward. "What will you do, David? Go and search in the Killingworth woods to-morrow night?" she asked, as they drew near home. "It is of no use," he said, with a sigh. "It _must_ be that the frost destroys the fox-fire. Unless Dr. Franklin knows of a light that will not eat up the air, everything must be put off until spring." The next day David Bushnell went to Killingworth, to tell the story to Dr. Gale, and Dr. Gale wrote to Silas Deane (Conn. Historical Col., Vol. 2), begging him to inquire of Dr. Franklin concerning the possibility of using the Philosopher's Lantern, but no light was found, and the poor Turtle was housed in the seine-house on Poverty Island during the long winter, which proved to be one of great mildness from late December to mid-February. In February we find David Bushnell before Governor Jonathan Trumbull and his Council at Lebanon, to tell about and illustrate the marvels of his wonderful machine.