He drew together dry
sticks, ignited a fire with flint and steel, and cooked deer meat over it.
He let the fire burn high, and a thin column of dark smoke rose far up
into the blue. Any savage, roaming the wilderness, might see it, but the
shiftless one was reckless. He let the fire burn on, after his food was
cooked, while the column of smoke grew thicker and mounted higher, and ate
the savory steaks, lying comfortably between two upthrust roots. Now and
then he uttered a little sigh of satisfaction, because he had travelled
far and hard, and he was hungry. Food meant new strength.
But he was not as reckless as he seemed. Nothing that passed in the forest
within the range of eyesight escaped his notice. He heard the leaf, when
it fell close by, and the light tread of a deer passing. He remained a
full hour between the roots, a long time for one who might have a purpose,
and, after he rose, he did not scatter the fire and trample upon the
brands after the wilderness custom when one was ready to depart. The
flames had died down, but he let the coals smoulder on, and, hundreds of
yards away, he could still see their smoke. Now, he sought the softest
parts of the earth and trod there deliberately, leaving many footprints.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25