“Don’t you know anything at all? Wood won’t light, nor burn after ’tis lighted, in the sunshine. Stick up something to shade the stuff, whilst--” He illustrated what he did not further say by carefully selecting some hard stones and briskly rubbing them together. A faint spark resulted and a thistledown caught the spark. To the thistledown he held a dried grass blade and another. By this small beginning they had soon a tiny blaze and very soon a comforting fire. When they were partially dried and rested, said Pierre: “Now, fetch on your beans. While they’re cooking, we’ll take account of what is left.” Adrian brought the bag, refraining from any questions this time. He was wondering and watchful. Pierre’s misadventures were developing unsuspected resources, and the spirits of both lads rose again to the normal. “You’re so fond of splitting birch for pictures, split me some now for a bucket, while I sharpen this knife again. Lucky for me, my pocket buttoned, else it would have gone to the bottom of that pool. Got yours?” “Yes. I didn’t fall in, you know.” “Then I don’t ask odds of anybody. I’d rather have a good ax, but when I can’t get my rather I take the next best thing.” Adrian procured the strips of birch, which grows so plentifully to hand in all that woodland, and when Pierre had trimmed it into the desired shape he deftly rolled it and tied it with stout rootlets, and behold! there was a shapely sort of kettle, with a twig for a handle. But of what use it might be the city lad had yet to learn. Pierre filled the affair with water and put into it a good handful of the beans. Then he fixed a crotched stick over his fire and hung the birch kettle upon it. “Oh! don’t waste them. I know. I saw Angelique soak them, as they did at camp. I know, now. If we can’t cook them we can make them swell up in water, and starving men can exist on such food till they reach a settlement. Of course, we’ll start as soon as you’re all right.” “We’ll start when we’re ready. That’s after we’ve had something to eat and made our new canoe. Never struck a spot where there was likelier birches. ’Twon’t be the first one I’ve built or seen built. Say! seems as if that God that Margot is always saying takes care of folks must have had a hand in this. Don’t it?” “Yes, it does,” answered Adrian, reverently. Surely, Pierre was a changed and better lad.