Winthrope held out a bunch of long flat keys and his cigarette case. He opened the latter, and was about to throw away the two remaining cigarettes when Blake grasped his wrist.
“Hold on! even they may come in for something. We’ll at least keep them until we need the case.”
“And the keys!”
“Make arrow-heads, if we can get fire.”
“I’ve heard of savages making fire by rubbing wood.”
“Yes; and we’re a long way from being savages,–at present. All the show we have is to find some kind of quartz or flint, and the sooner we start to look the better. Got your slippers tied, Miss Jenny?”
“Yes; I think they’ll do.”
“Think! It’s knowing’s the thing. Here, let me look.”
The girl shrank back; but Blake stooped and examined first one slipper and then the other. The ribbons about both were tied in dainty bows. Blake jerked them loose and twisted them firmly over and under the slippers and about the girl’s slender ankles before knotting the ends.
“There; that’s more like. You’re not going to a dance,” he growled.