We fell to imitating the Fire-Men.

We squatted down by the fire, and with heads bent forward on our knees, made believe to sleep.

Then we mimicked their speech, talking to each other in their fashion and making a great gibberish.

I remembered seeing the wizened old hunter poke the fire with a stick.

I poked the fire with a stick, turning up masses of live coals and clouds of white ashes.