After a while the noise slowly died away down the mountain-side, and the woods seemed more comfortable to Kitty. But sunset drew near, and still there came no cheerful father-voice. The supper of butternuts was not a very jolly one. Ted tried to be brave, but finally he dropped his face into his elbow and wailed forth, "I want some bread and butter," and cried loud and long.
"If we only had matches," sobbed Kitty, after Ted's cries had hushed a little, "we could make a fire, and—and maybe find something to roast."
Ted stopped crying by trying very hard, and began to examine his pockets. The prospect of a bonfire is cheering even to a hungry boy. First a dull jackknife was laid on the rock, then two nails, then a little rusty hinge, then a piece of slate-pencil, then a brass button with an eagle on it, then more slate-pencil, then a piece of string wound into a ball, then half of a match—the end that wouldn't go! Then happily he thought of his inside pocket, and the hole that was in it! Feeling along the lining of his jacket, there in its corner was something which might be—yes, it was a match!
"We won't care very much about it anyway," said experienced Kitty, "and then it will be more apt to burn." Nevertheless, after they had piled up some dry leaves, and laid birch "quirls" and small sticks over the top, she struck the match across the sole of her shoe, shielded it with her hand, and watched it anxiously. The little blue light quivered, paled, almost went out, and then leaped cheerfully upon a dry leaf, and in an instant the pile was alive with snaps and sparkles and dancing flames. The children gave quite a merry shout.
"And now what'll we roast?" said poor Ted.
"We must fix the fire so it won't spread first," said Kitty; and she carefully scraped away all the leaves and sticks that were near. Then she took her brother's hand, and started to look for she hardly knew what, but trying with all her motherly little heart to think of something likely to be found in such a woods.
"Sour grapes roasted wouldn't be very nice, but maybe they'd be a sort of a relish, you know, Ted;" and she stopped by a tree overgrown with wild grapes, and began looking for the not very tempting clusters.
"Why, here are some that are nearly ripe. See! really purple a little."
Suddenly something alive sprang out of the brambles at their feet, and whirred away with a tremendous rush.
"It's the pattridge nest, sure's you live!" said Ted, diving down among the leaves; and after a minute's eager search they were found—two, four, six, eight, nine speckled eggs in the cozy nest. "We'll leave one for the poor pattridge to come back to, won't we Kit?" said Ted, swiftly placing them in his hat.