"Perhaps you also know how to find food when there isn't any," she retorted.
He rose without replying.
"Well," she continued, "I see plenty of roots and stuff. We may as well prepare to eat them. It's unbelievable that I should be here, and with you. It's a horrible nightmare, this being stranded and lame out here somewhere with a blind man."
He winced, but answered quietly: "I'm not especially charmed myself. I could prefer other things."
She looked at him and smiled. "Don't ever let me repeat those sentiments," she said, simply. "I'm sorry. Of course you aren't to blame, and I shouldn't have said that."
He stepped forward timidly. "Will you suggest the best means of finding dry wood?" he asked, as though the matter were forgotten.
She pursed her lips and looked around her. "This moss seems to be feet deep," she said at last. "You might dig up some that is dry, and with that as a starter you can add twigs."
He stopped and began to tear away the moss. His hands were stiff, but he worked rapidly and before long he had a heap of the brown, dry stuff from underneath.
She watched him silently. When he stopped, she said: "Straight to your left is the rock. Get the fire started. Then you can move the invalid."
He took the moss and felt his way to the rock, which was eight or ten feet square and practically flat, standing up almost a foot from the ground.