"Yes," replied Jonas, "but all the life of it was consumed by the first piece of birch bark which you put in."
"The life of it?" said Rollo.
"Yes," replied Jonas; "what do you suppose it is, that makes anything burn?"
"Why, it burns itself," said Rollo.
"No," answered Jonas; "the air makes it burn: it must have good air around it, or else it won't burn. There is something in the air which I call the life of it; this makes the fire burn. But when this is all gone, then that air will not make fire burn any longer. It will only burn in good fresh air, which has got the life in it."
"I thought fire would burn in any kind of air," said Rollo.
"No," replied Jonas; "you can see if you stop up the hole I made here."
Jonas then took a piece of turf from the field, and put it before the hole, and crowded it in hard with the heel of his boot. Rollo observed that the fire was almost immediately deadened.
"Now," continued Jonas, "light a small piece of birch bark, and put it in."
Jonas helped Rollo fasten a small piece of bark upon the end of a stick, and then Rollo set it on fire, and held it down a little way into the stump. It burned very feebly.