“Cut it out!” roared Sandy.

“Because if you can,” Thede explained, “I think I can show you a way out of this mess!”

“Well, go on and show it, then!”

“All you’ve got to do,” Thede went on, “is to build a fire and drop the burning brands down on top of the bears.  That will bring them out into the light for a second or two, and perhaps we can drop them with our automatics.”

The boys heard the Indian moving softly about in the branches of the tree he had selected as a refuge, but paid little attention to what he was doing.  Afterwards, they discovered that he had dropped his rifle at the foot of the tree, and was trying to secure it.

“Why did you say build a fire with one match?” asked Sandy.  “I always carry a lot of matches,” the boy added, feeling in his pocket.

“Find any?” asked Thede.

“Not a match!”

“I knew you wouldn’t!” Thede said.

“How’d you happen to know so much?” grunted Sandy.

“Because,” Thede replied, “I saw you feeling in your pocket for a match and bring your fingers out empty while at the cabin.  Then you went to a match box and laid a great heap of ’em on the table.  I thought of it while we stood there, but it never occurred to me to tell you to stow them away.”

“I remember now!” Sandy said regretfully.

“Well,” Thede responded cheerfully, “I’ve got just one match.  I wonder if you can light a fire with that!”

“You just wait a minute and I’ll tell you!” replied Sandy.

Thede heard him moving about over the limbs of the tree, his every motion being punctuated by growls from below.  Then came an exclamation of satisfaction from the darkness, and Thede heard the boy declaring that it was a dead tree they were in, and that there was plenty of dry wood.

“All right, start your fire, then,” suggested Thede, “and we’ll see if we can’t burn the backs off some of those bears!”

“Perhaps we can break off enough dry limbs to make a rousing old fire that will keep till morning,” Sandy said in a moment.  “If this old tree is really dead to the heart, it’ll make quite a blaze.”

Sandy gathered a great handful of twigs not more than a couple of inches in length and placed them in a sheltered position in the lee of the tree.  Then he added dry boughs of larger size and made ready to use the precious match.

“Now you know what’ll happen if that match goes out!” said Thede.

“This match,” said Sandy confidently, “is not the kind of a match that goes out.  I’d be a healthy old Boy Scout if I couldn’t build a fire in the top of a tree with one match!”

The boy waited until there came a brief lull in the wind, then with the match protected as much as possible by his hat he struck it.

The flame spluttered for an instant, died down, crawled around to the windward side of the stick, crawled back again, and then flared up gloriously.  At first the dry twigs refused to ignite, but presently one caught the blaze, then another, and directly Sandy was obliged to draw his face away from the growing heat.