Now he drew the bow back and forth, slowly, steadily, till the long stick or drill revolving ground smoking black dust out of the notch.

Then faster, until the smoke was very strong and the powder filled the notch.

Then he lifted the flat stick, fanning the powder with his hands till a glowing coal appeared.
Over this he put the cedar tinder and blew gently, till it flamed, and soon the wigwam was aglow.
The whole time taken, from lifting the sticks to the blazing fire, was less than one minute.
This is the ancient way of the Indian; Rolf had often heard of it as a sort of semi-myth; never before had he seen it, and so far as he could learn from the books, it took an hour or two of hard work, not a few deft touches and a few seconds of time.
He soon learned to do it himself, and in the years which followed, he had the curious experience of showing it to many Indians who had forgotten how, thanks to the greater portability of the white man's flint and steel.
As they walked in the woods that day, they saw three trees that had been struck by lightning during the recent storm; all three were oaks.

Then it occurred to Rolf that he had never seen any but an oak struck by lightning.
"Is it so, Quonab ?" "No, there are many others; the lightning strikes the oaks most of all, but it will strike the pine, the ash, the hemlock, the basswood, and many more.

Only two trees have I never seen struck, the balsam and the birch." "Why do they escape ?" "My father told me when I was a little boy it was because they sheltered and warmed the Star-girl, who was the sister of the Thunder-bird." "I never heard that; tell me about it." "Sometime maybe, not now.".