“Where’d we get steel?” asked Esther.
“Oh, the knives are all steel.”
“And the dig-spoon?”
“No, that is only iron. It isn’t just the same thing, Pocahontas, and I’m sure if we keep our eyes open we can find little pieces of flint that will do.”
That, indeed, was not difficult. They soon had a collection of bits of flint, some of which, indeed, were actual arrowheads dropped in some age long gone by.
Then Marian tried over and over to strike sparks from the bits of flint and the backs of the knives; sometimes a weak little spark would fly out only to disappear immediately, and no kindling she could get would ignite. They had seen Mexicans light their cigarettes by this method time and again, but the Mexican has a prepared wick which catches the spark and burns on till it is put out.
Marian tried to make a wick from strips of rag torn from the towel, but it was of no avail. She was not very successful in striking a spark in the first place, and she never could retain one for a second after it was struck.
“I believe we’ve got to be more primitive still,” she said to Delbert. “The real wild Indian makes his fire by rubbing two sticks together.”
Something distracted her attention then, and she thought no more about it till Delbert came to her a half-hour later, flushed and tired and disgusted.
“Marian,” he said, “I don’t believe any Indian ever made two sticks light by rubbing them together!”