"Oh, we must have a fire! There's plenty of dry wood about."
He went forward and began to heap up some broken boughs.
"It won't do to light it here though," he went on. "We might set fire to the forest; everything is so burnt up."
"I'm afraid I can't go any further," said Cyril.
"No, you stay there. I'll just take a look round." He walked off as he spoke, and disappeared amongst the trees.
It was very still after he had gone. The twittering of birds and the occasional snarl of some wild animal, or the breaking of twigs as one stealthily approached, were the only sounds to be heard. At another time Cyril, who was unarmed, might have been nervous had not bodily fatigue overcome every other sensation. As it was, by the time Green returned to him he was fast asleep.
"Poor lad, I won't wake him," said the kindly man, lifting Cyril in his strong arms, and carrying him off as if he were a baby.
When Cyril awoke an hour later he saw a great wood fire burning, and sending up showers of sparks into the still night air. He was lying in an open space at one side of the fire, and Green was stooping down near it, attending to the roasting of a bird.
"Supper's ready, my lad," he was calling. "And a blessing it is I've got some supper for you. Jump up."
"What is it? How did you get it, Green?" asked Cyril eagerly, for all at once he felt uncommonly hungry.