“Too bad! Well, it can’t be helped.” Hugh broke off the branch Alec had pointed out, whittled it smooth, and gave it to his companion. “There you are! Now, do you think we can stagger on?”
“I guess so. I’ll try, anyway.”
Together, they did stagger on, Hugh assisting Alec over the rough places, or going before him to sweep aside the entangling vines and brakes and low-hanging boughs that obstructed their path. The sun and their little pocket compasses were their guides through the mazes of the forest, and the fact that they were never hopelessly lost was proof that they were good woodsmen.
Time and time again, during that long, tedious, wearisome, painful journey, Alec urged Hugh not to wait for him but to go ahead and return for him with friends from camp. Finally, seeing that Alec was in great distress, Hugh resolved to comply with this wish.
“I will leave you just as soon as we come to Rainbow Lake, if you insist,” he promised reluctantly. “But if you are attacked by any wild animal, or if you should trip and have another bad fall, I’m not responsible.”
As it happened, they had followed an old Indian trail through the woods, one which led them to the northern end of Rainbow Lake in less time than they had counted on. This trail must have saved them at least four miles and twice as many hours.
But twilight had begun to fold in the hills and to creep across the surface of the lake like a veil, when they at last stood upon its shore. It was too late to go to Pioneer Camp that night, even had the canoe been on hand for Hugh to use, instead of lying beached on the bare pebbly shingle at the other end of the lake.
“We’ll have to camp out again to-night, here,” said Hugh. “Have you any matches to light a fire with, Alec?”
“No, but I always carry my fire-stick, drill, and bow with me. You get some good tinder, Hugh, and I’ll make a fire in two shakes.”
In a few minutes Hugh returned with a handful of pounded cedar wood, dry and sweet-smelling, and while he went to try and gather a few berries for their supper, Alec prepared to start the fire. First he gave a few strokes with the drill, then rearranged the tiny sticks he had placed over the tinder, and tried a few more strokes. No success. He gave half a dozen deft twirls to the drill—the smoke burst forth. He covered it with the tinder, fanned it a few seconds, and then a bright flame arose, just as Hugh returned with his cap full of luscious blackberries.