"That's so," replied Yan, with the same sort of superstitious dread. "Say, Sam, if we could really light it with rubbing-sticks, wouldn't it be great?"
"Hallo!"
The boys turned, and there was Caleb close to them. He came over and nodded. "Got yer teepee, I see? Not bad, but what did ye face her to the west fur?"
"Fronting the creek," explained Yan.
"I forgot to tell ye," said Caleb, "an Injun teepee always fronts the east; first, that gives the morning sun inside; next, the most wind is from the west, so the smoke is bound to draw."
"And what if the wind is right due east?" asked Sam, "which it surely will be when it rains?"
"And when the wind's east," continued Caleb, addressing no one in particular, and not as though in answer to a question, "ye lap the flaps across each other tight in front, so," and he crossed his hands over his chest. "That leaves the east side high and shuts out the rain; if it don't draw then,
ye raise the bottom of the cover under the door just a little—that always fetches her. An' when you [170] change her round don't put her in under them trees. Trees is dangerous; in a storm they draw lightning, an' branches fall from them, an' after rain they keep on dripping for an hour. Ye need all the sun ye kin get on a teepee.
"Did you ever see Indians bring fire out of two sticks by rubbing, Mr. Clark?"