So saying, Marco drew the sheet of bark up higher, holding it in such a manner that it covered his cap, rising into a point above his head. He held it in such a manner as to leave a little crevice open in front, to peep through, in order that he might see where he was going.
"See, Forester," said he,—"see my umbrella."
Forester looked at Marco's contrivance, and he immediately thought that such a sheet would be an important protection to the head and neck, in case they had to walk in the rain. He accordingly went to the hut and selected a sheet for himself, saying,
"This is not a bad plan. The most important point is to protect the head and neck, and this will do it pretty well. We can roll the sheets up and carry them under our arms, unless it rains fast, and then we can wrap them around us."
Having thus found a rude substitute for an umbrella, Forester thought that it would be best for them to set out on their journey. They accordingly returned to their encampment, and made preparations for resuming their march. As it was raining but very little at that time, they rolled up their umbrellas and carried them under their arms. Marco took the hatchet, and Forester the bag of provisions. Marco wanted to set fire to the hut which had sheltered them for the night. He wanted Forester to hear what a loud crackling the green hemlock branches, which they had put upon the roof, would make, when the flames from the wood below should envelop them.
But Forester would not consent to this. He said that some accident might possibly happen, by which they should be obliged to come back and spend another night there, though he hoped such a measure would not be necessary.
"I hope so, too," said Marco.
"We may lose our way again," said Forester.
"But then," said Marco, "we shall not come back to this place."