still shining on the mountain-side, far above him,
it was already twilight where he was, and he had no desire to explore
that stream farther in darkness. It would be bad enough by daylight. In
fact, he was so thankful to escape from that icy water that, had the
light been increasing instead of waning at that moment, he would
probably have lingered long on those blessed rocks before tempting it
further.

Now, as he gazed about him in search of some place in which, or on
which, to pass the long hours of darkness, his eye fell on a confused
pile of driftwood not far away. Here was a prize indeed. He had matches,
and, thanks to "Billy" Brackett, they were still dry. Now he could have
a fire. He found the driftwood to be a mass of branches and tree-trunks,
bleached to the whiteness of bones, and evidently brought down by some
much higher water than the present. They were lodged in the mouth of a
deep water-worn hollow in the rock, and converted a certain portion of
it into a sort of a cave. Creeping in behind this wooden wall of gnarled
roots, twisted branches, and splintered trunks, the shivering boy felt
for his hatchet; but it had disappeared. His knife still remained in its
sheath, however, and with it he finally managed, though with great
difficulty on account of the numbness of his hands, to cut off a little
pile of slivers and shavings from a bit of pine.

In another moment the cave was illumined with a bright glow from one of
his precious matches, and a tiny flame was creeping up through the
handful of kindling. With careful nursing and judicious feeding the
little flame rapidly increased in strength and brightness, until it was
lighting the whole place with its cheerful glow, and was leaping, with
many cracklings, through the entire mass of driftwood.

Before starting that fire, it seemed to Glen that no amount of heat
could be unwelcome, or that he could ever be even comfortably warm
again. He discovered his mistake, however, when he was finally forced to
abandon his cave entirely, and seek refuge in the open air from the
intense heat with which it was filled. Not until his pile of wood had
burned down to a bed of glowing coals could he return.

His couch that night was certainly a hard one, but it was as warm and
dry as a boy could wish. If he only had something to eat! But he had
not; so he went to sleep instead, and slept soundly until
daylight--which meant about an hour after sunrise in the world beyond
th