FUR FACTS 273 



intensely. I asked Jack if there was anything we could do for him. 

 He said that the only thing he knew was to rub his hands and arms. 

 This we did for about fifteen minutes, at the end of which time he 

 opened his eyes for a moment, but did not seem to recognize us. 



It was fully three hours before my uncle regained consciousness, 

 and even then he was so weak from pain and the loss of blood that 

 he could hardly stand up. 



Jack had managed to save the wooden boat in which most of our 

 supplies were stored and there was still a box of canned goods under 

 the front seat. There was plenty of brush around, but the matches 

 were all wet and we had no way of starting a fire. Having read in 

 a trapping book of a method of starting a fire with ice, I though this 

 would be a good opportunity for testing out the idea. Of course, 

 everyone is familiar with the method of starting a fire by means of 

 a sun glass by bringing the rays of the sun to a focus. Well, my idea 

 was the same, except that I was to do it with ice. Fortunately, I 

 found a clear piece of ice about three-eights of an inch in thickness. 

 With my pocket knife I cut a disk about three inches in diameter, 

 then trimmed as nearly it as I could to represent a double-convex lens, 

 or reading glass, leaving its thickness about three-eights of an inch 

 in the center and tapering both sides to a straight thin edge. At 

 first it did not concentrate the rays to a good focal point. I thought 

 its surface perhaps was too rough. Taking it between the palms of 

 my hands I made circular movements back and forth, and this 

 heating of the surface quickly formed it into a lens good enough 

 for starting a fire, which it did so quickly that we were astonished. 

 We soon had a good fire and after devouring a can of beans and a 

 can of corned beef, we felt greatly strengthened. We camped there 

 that night and the next day we pushed on to Maiden, Missouri. 

 Here my uncle said he didn't care to go any further, so he took the 

 train for St. Louis and returned home, leaving Jack and me to con- 

 tinue our journey alone. 



On the afternoon following my uncle's departure, Jack chanced 

 to meet an old friend of his, John Gregory by name, whom he in- 

 vited to join us. Gregory was a man about thirty years of age, 

 tall and slender with dark swarthy complexion and black, penetrating 

 eyes. Something about the man, his appearance, or his manner, 

 caused me to dislike him from the very first. He seemingly enter- 

 tained a similar feeling for me, and I noticed that he was always ready 

 to offer opposition to anything I might say. His disposition toward 

 me, together with the growing intimacy with which he and Jack 



