But for all that, Rube had no idea of being starved to death. He could kindle a fire, and burn it upon an open prairie, without the least fear of its being seen; and in a few minutes’ time he had succeeded in making one, that could not have been discovered by the most sharp-sighted Indian in creation. I had watched the operation with some interest.
He first collected a quantity of dead leaves, dry grass, and short sticks of the mezquite-tree—all of which he placed under his saddle-blanket, to prevent the rain and sleet from wetting them. This done, he drew out his bowie-knife, and with the blade “crowed” a hole into the turf, about a foot deep, and ten inches or a foot in diameter. In the bottom of this hole he placed the grass and leaves, having first ignited them by means of his flint, steel, and “punk” tinder—all of which implements formed part of the contents of Rube’s pouch and possible sack—ever present. On the top of the now blazing leaves and grass he placed the dry sticks—first the smaller ones, and then those of larger dimensions—until the hole was filled up to the brim—and over all he laid the piece of sod, originally cut from the surface, and which fitted as neatly as a lid.
His furnace being now finished and in full blast, the old trapper “hunkered” down close to its edge—in such a position as to embrace the fire between his thighs, and have it nearly under him. He then drew his old saddle-blanket over his shoulders, allowing it to droop behind until he had secured it under the salient points of his lank angular hips. In front he passed the blanket over his knees, until both ends, reaching the ground, were gripped tightly between his toes. The contrivance was complete; and there sat the earless trapper like a hand-glass over a plant of spring rhubarb—a slight smoke oozing through the apertures of the scant blanket, and curling up around his “ears” as though he was hatching upon a hotbed. But no fire could be seen, though Rube shivered no longer.
He soon found imitators. Garey had already constructed a similar furnace; and the others were soon warming themselves by this simple but ingenious device.
I did not disdain to avail myself of the extra “shaft” which the kind-hearted Garey had sunk for my accommodation; and having placed myself by its side, and drawn the ample robe over my shoulders, I felt as warm as if seated in front of a sea-coal fire!
Under other circumstances, I might have joined in the merriment produced among my companions by the ludicrous spectacle which we presented. A comic spectacle indeed; nine of us squatted at intervals over the ground, the blue smoke escaping through the interstices of our robes and blankets, and rising around our heads, as though one and all of us were on fire!
Wind, sleet, and darkness, continued throughout the whole night—cold wind, sharp icy sleet, and black darkness, that seemed palpable to the touch. Ever so eager, ever so fresh, we could not have advanced along the trail. Grand war-trail as it was, it could not have been traced under that amorphous obscurity, and we had no means of carrying a light, even had it been safe to do so. We had no lantern, and the norther with one blast would have whisked out a torch of pitch-pine.
We thought no more of going forward, until either the day should break or the wind come to a lull.
At midnight we replenished our subterranean fires, and remained on the ground. Hail, rain, wind, and darkness.
My companions rested their heads upon their knees, or nodding slept. No sleep for me—not even the repose of thought. Like some fevered sufferer on his wakeful couch. I counted the hours—the minutes. The minutes seemed hours.