"
"And I have only three," Charlie said. "Powder has run very short.
The captain was saying, yesterday, that we must send to the village
and try to get some more. Still, six shots will help us."
"Not much, sir. There must be thirty or forty of them now. I have
seen some come from the other way. I suppose they were part of the
pack that followed the horses."
Charlie sat for some time thinking. Then he exclaimed:
"I think this is a dead tree."
"It is, sir. I noticed it when we climbed up. The head has gone,
and I think it must have been struck with lightning last summer."
"Then I think we can manage."
"Manage what, sir?" the man asked in surprise.
"Manage to make a fire, Stanislas. First of all, we will crawl out
towards the ends of the branches as far as we can get, and break
off twigs and small boughs. If we can't get enough, we can cut
chips off, and we will pile them all where these three big boughs
branch off from the trunk. We have both our tinderboxes with us,
and I see no reason why we should not be able to light a fire up
here."
"So we might," Stanislas said eagerly. "But if we did, we might set
the whole tree on fire."
"No bad thing, either," Charlie rejoined. "You may be sure the fire
will keep the wolves at a respectful distance, and we could get
down and enjoy the heat without fear.
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