“We’ll try another match,” he said.
Alison gave him the light and saw the flame curl about two or three small strips of printed paper. The cigarette papers began to burn, the newspaper smoked and the bottom edge got red. She was very quiet; and Kit’s heart beat, for if the fire went out he knew they might freeze. For a few moments the newspaper smouldered and then a blaze leaped up. The fire-stick snapped and a bright beam shone from a crack in the iron. Kit threw in a billet and a lump of coal.
“The fire’s going!” he shouted triumphantly.
“This time it lighted soon,” Alison remarked. “What were the papers you burned?”
Kit laughed. “I hope they were dollar bills, because I had some larger notes. One talks about burning money, but in the circumstances perhaps I was not extravagant.”
He put the broken box in the corner by the stove for Alison, and sitting down, rested his back against the turf. After the turmoil outside, to sit behind thick walls was some relief, but the shack was very cold and they had not much fuel. Kit doubted if the fire would burn for long. Alison, however, must not know he was anxious, and he began to talk.
“The rail train will soon come along, and now we have got a light I can signal the engineer,” he said, and tried to cut a fresh fire-stick from a creosoted billet. “When I saw you were not with Austin I was terribly disappointed. How did you get left behind?”
“Bob ordered the engineer to move some empty cars. It was very cold and Carrie and I went back to the office. Florence said she would call us, but she did not.”
“Then Miss Grey knew you were at the office?”
“Of course,” said Alison. “She was two or three yards off.”