"Don't see anything. Wait. Yes, I do. A canvas bag hung up high. Must
have been forgotten when the campers left, for they took everything
else, clean sweep. Hurrah! It's beans!"

"Good. Beans are good fodder for hungry cattle."

"How can you eat such hard things? Should think they'd been
resurrected from the Pyramids."

"Well, I don't know 'Pyramids,' but I do know beans, and how to cook
them. Fall to. Let's get a fire. I'm nearly frozen."

"Fire? Can you make one?"

"I can try and---- I've got to. When needs must, you know."

Adrian hastily collected some dry twigs and decaying chips and heaped
them in the sunniest place, but for this was promptly reprimanded by
the shivering Pierre.

"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 thistle-down caught the spark. To the thistle-down 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 axe, 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 An