The suggestion did not increase her enthusiasm for her task. She hung about a few minutes longer and then collected a few twigs along the beach, raising them carefully between her thumb and forefinger. They did not make an imposing pile, as she felt when her rescuer came to inspect it, looking first at it and then at her, with his hands in his pockets. "I hope you won't overdo?" he said. Juliana colored. "Did you expect me to carry great logs?" she asked. "Women can't do that sort of thing." He moved away without answering, and presently had collected enough wood for many fires. "I'd like to see you lay a fire," he said. She threw some of the small sticks together, then the larger ones, as she had seen the housemaid do at home. Then, embarrassed at his silent observation, she drew back. "Of course I can't do it, if you watch me," she exclaimed. "You can't do it anyhow, because you don't know the principle. The first thing a fire needs is air. It's done like this." He tore down and re-erected her structure. If Miss Wilbur had followed her impulse, she would have kicked it down as he finished, but she managed a fine aloofness instead. He did not appear to notice her chin in the air. "Yes," he observed as he rose from his knees, "it's a handy thing to know--how to lay a fire, and as you say, one is naturally grateful to the fellow who teaches one. I'm going to look for food. Keep a lookout for ships." He had hardly gone when he came bounding back again, waving two small fish by the tails. "Got 'em," he shouted. "Dug out some ponds this morning, but never thought it would work, but here they are. Now we'll light the fire." His excitement was contagious. She sprang up, held the skirt of her dressing-gown to shield the match, blew the flame, almost blew it out. Finally, with the help of both matches the fire was lit. "I'm so hungry," she said. "Do you think they'll taste good?" He did not answer. She could not but be impressed by the deftness with which he split and boned the fish, and the invention he displayed in evolving cooking utensils out of shells and sticks. "You know," he said suddenly, "this fire must never go out. This will be your job. Sort of vestal-virgin idea." The charge made her nervous. The responsibility was serious. During one of his absences she began to think the flame was dying down. She put in a stick. It blazed too quickly. A crash followed and one of the fish disappeared into the fire. After a time she managed to drag it out, black and sandy. She dreaded his return. How could she make clear to him that it had not been her fault? She decided on a comic manner. Holding it up by the tail, she smiled at him. "Doesn't that look delicious?" she asked gayly. His brow darkened. "All right, if you like them that way," he returned. "Don't you think the other is large enough for two?" His answer was to remove the other from the fire and to eat it himself.