Tish got out the “Young Woodsman” from the suitcase.  It seems I had followed cuts I and II, but had neglected cut III, which is:  Hold the left wrist against the left shin, and the left foot on the fireblock.  I had got my feet mixed and was trying to hold my left wrist against my right shin, which is exceedingly difficult.  Tish got a fire in fourteen minutes and thirty-one seconds by Aggie’s watch, and had to wear a bandage on her hand for a week.

But we had a fire.  We cooked the rabbit, which proved to be much older than Aggie had thought, and ate what we could.  Personally I am not fond of rabbit, and our enjoyment was rather chastened by the fear that some mushrooms Tish had collected and added to the stew were toadstools incognito.  To make things worse, Aggie saw some goldenrod nearby and began to sneeze.

It was after five o’clock, but it seemed wisest to move on toward the lake.

“Even if we don’t make it,” said Tish, “we’ll be on our way, and while that bear is likely harmless we needn’t thrust temptation in his way.”

We carried the fire with us in the kettle and we took turns with the tepee, which was heavy.  Our suitcases with our city clothes in them we hid in a hollow tree, and one after the other, with Aggie last, we started on.

The trail, which was a sort of wide wagon road at first, became a footpath; as we went on even that disappeared at times under fallen leaves.  Once we lost it entirely, and Aggie, falling over a hidden root, stilled the fire.  She became exceedingly disagreeable at about that time, said she was sure Tish’s mushrooms were toadstools because she felt very queer, and suddenly gave a yell and said she had seen something moving in the bushes.

We all looked, and the bushes were moving.

III

It was dusk by that time and the path was only a thread between masses of undergrowth.  Tish said if it was the bear he would be afraid of the fire, so we put dry leaves in the kettle and made quite a blaze.  By its light Tish read that bears in the summer are full fed and really frolicsome and that they are awful cowards.  We felt quite cheered and brave, and Tish said if he came near to throw the fire kettle at him and he’d probably die of fright.

It was too late to put up the tepee, so we found a clearing near the path and decided to spend the night there.  Aggie still watched the bushes and wanted to spend the night in a tree; but Tish’s calmness was a reproach to us both, and after we had emptied the kettle and made quite a fire to keep off animals, we unrolled our blankets and prepared for sleep.  I could have slept anywhere, although I was still rather hungry.  My last view was of Tish in the firelight grimly bending down a sapling and fastening a rabbit snare to it.