Then he cut larger pieces, laying them on one side while he worked with his flint and steel on the splinters.
Flint and steel are not easily handled even by the most skillful, and Henry saw the spark leap up and die out many times before it finally took hold of the end of the tiniest splinter and grew.

He watched it as it ran along the little piece of wood and ignited another and then another, the beautiful little red and yellow flames leaping up half a foot in height.

Already he felt the grateful warmth and glow, but he would not let himself indulge in premature joy.

He fed it with larger and larger pieces until the flames, a deeper and more beautiful red and yellow, rose at least two feet, and big coals began to form.

He left the door open a while in order that the smoke might go out, but when the fire had become mostly coals he closed it again, all except a crack of about six inches, which would serve at once to let any stray smoke out, and to let plenty of fresh air in.
Now Henry, all his preparations made, no detail neglected, proceeded to luxuriate.