first, resting against the stakes.

Now you are ready for the hand-chunks, or andirons. These are shorter
sticks of wood, eight or ten inches thick, laid at right angles to the
backlog, four or five feet apart. Across these you are to build up the
firewood proper.

Use a dry spruce-tree, not one that has fallen, but one that is dead and
still standing, if you want a lively, snapping fire. Use a hard maple
or a hickory if you want a fire that will burn steadily and make few
sparks. But if you like a fire to blaze up at first with a splendid
flame, and then burn on with an enduring heat far into the night, a
young white birch with the bark on is the tree to choose. Six or eight
round sticks of this laid across the hand-chunks, with perhaps a few
quarterings of a larger tree, will make a glorious fire.

But before you put these on, you must be ready to light up. A few
splinters of dry spruce or pine or balsam, stood endwise against
the backlog, or, better still, piled up in a pyramid between the
hand-chunks; a few strips of birch-bark; and one good match,--these
are all that you want. But be sure that your match is a good one. It is
better to see to this before you go into the brush. Your comfort, even
your life, may depend on it.

"AVEC CES ALLUMETTES-LA," said my guide at LAC ST. JEAN one day, as he
vainly tried to light his pipe with a box of parlour matches from the
hotel,--AVEC CES GNOGNOTTES D'ALLUMETTES ON POURRA MOURIR AU BOIS!"

In the woods, the old-fashioned brimstone match of our grandfathers--the
match with a brown head and a stout stick and a dreadful smell--is the
best. But if you have only one, do not trust even that to light your
fire directly. Use it first to touch off a roll of birch-bark which you
hold in your hand. Then, when the bark is well alight, crinkling and
curling, push it under the heap of kindlings, give the flame time to
take a good hold, and lay your wood over it, a stick at a time, until
the whole pile is blazing. Now your fire is started. Your friendly
little red-haired gnome is ready to serve you through the night.

He will dry your clothes if you are wet. He will cheer you up if you are
despondent. He will diffuse an air of sociability through the camp, and
draw the men together in a half circle for storytelling and jokes and
singing. He will hold a flambeau for you while you spread your blankets
on the boughs and dress for bed. He will keep you warm while you
sleep,--at least ti