Caleb did not understand this very well, but he was surprised to see his roll flying off in that manner. He immediately took two sticks, and tried to take up the roll with them, as one would with a pair of tongs; but he could not hold it with them.
“Well, then,” said he, “I must try the third way.”
So he began to gather sticks, and put the ends of them upon the fire. When they began to burn, he took up one; but as soon as he got it off the fire, it began to go out, and he said that he knew that way to kindle a fire never would do. In fact, he began to get out of patience. He threw down the stick, and went off again after Raymond.
“Raymond,” said he, “I cannot make my fire burn; and I wish you would come and kindle it for me.”
“Have you tried the ways I told you about?”
“Yes,” said Caleb.
“Have you tried all of them faithfully?”
“All but the last,” said Caleb, “and I know that won't do.”
“You must try them all, faithfully, or else I can't come.” So saying, Raymond went on with his work.
Caleb went back a good deal out of humour with himself, and saying that he wished Raymond was not so cross. He took up two of the sticks, which were now pretty well on fire, and carried them along, swinging them by the way, to make fiery rings and serpents in the air. When he reached the chimney, he threw them down carelessly, and stood watching them, to see if they were going to burn. Instead, however, of setting the other wood on fire, they only grew dimmer and dimmer themselves; and he said to himself, “I knew they would not burn.” Then he sat down upon a log, in a sad state of fretfulness and dissatisfaction.