And the iron's sharp edges cut cruelly into the tugging fingers.
But, inch by inch, he tore it free.

And at the end of three minutes he was strengthening and testing a willowy five-foot strip of metal.

Laying this across his knees and fishing up another double handful of the packing paper and jute he groped in his pockets with bleeding fingertips for a match.
He found but one.

Holding it tenderly he scraped its surface against his nail--a trick he had picked up in the army.

The sulphur snapped and ignited, the wooden sliver burning freely in that windless air.
Giving it a good start, he touched the point of flame to the piled jute and paper in front of him.