Читать книгу Trail and Trading Post; or, The Young Hunters of the Ohio онлайн

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Among the jagged rocks the water swirled swiftly, and they had to pick their way with care. Close to the tree-trunk was a deep hole, and they had to circle this. At last they stood on the shore, where the rocks were backed up by brushwood and tall timber.

“I fancy the canoe is done for,” announced Dave. “It went up on those rocks good and hard.”

“Well, let us be thankful that it carried us as far as it did,” answered Henry, trying to be cheerful. “We must be four or five miles from that Indian camp.”

“You are wet to the skin, Henry. You’ll have to dry your clothes or you’ll take cold.”

“I’ll wring them out and make that do, Dave. We won’t dare to light a campfire.”

“Not if we can find a hollow? The mist will hide a good deal, remember.”

“Well, we’ll see about it.”

Henry did not relish remaining in the wet and darkness any more than did his cousin, and both searched around until they found a spot with high rocks on two sides and a thick group of trees opposite. To get some dry wood was the next task, and then came the problem of starting the blaze. But this was solved by Henry, who poured some loose powder on a dry rock, mixed it with some tinder, and then hammered the rock with the ramrod of his gun. Soon came a flash and a hiss, and the tinder glowed, and presently the fire flared up pleasantly enough. Around it they piled some flat stones, shutting in the light as much as possible.