“And that’s how the world goes on, boy; fresh growth makes up for the destruction, and perhaps, after all, we have done some future settler a good turn by helping to clear the ground for him, ready for his home. Now then, will you lie down and have another nap?”
“What, with that tree burning?” I cried; and Esau uttered a grumbling sound expressing dissent, in which I fancied I detected words which sounded like fire and bears.
“Well, it is hardly worth while,” said Gunson. “Look sharp, Quong—tea. We’ll get breakfast over, and make a fresh start.”
“What, so soon?” I cried.
“Soon? Yes—look!”
He pointed upward, and to my astonishment I saw what seemed to be another huge pine-tree on fire far away in the distance; but realised directly after that it was the icy point of a mountain touched by the first rays of the rising sun, long before it illumined the lower earth. For morning was close at hand, and Quong began piling up sticks on our little fire, from which soon after we could trace the black path of burnt needles away to where, as Gunson said, some branch must have touched the ground, as was the case in many directions near.