Then he felt for the matches in one pocket, and finding them, turned over cautiously and dragged himself towards a fallen fir.

He knew where to find the resin, and tore at the smaller branches fiercely, flung them together, and striking a match, watched the flame that spread from splinter to splinter and crawled amidst the twigs.

At last it sprang aloft in a great crackling blaze, and Alton swayed unevenly and fell over on his side again.

After that he remembered nothing until he saw that the sun was in the sky, and dragged himself to the thicket for an armful of frosted fern.

When he had piled it on the fire a gauzy blue column that rose straight between the firs replaced the flame, and the man who watched it vacantly for a while dragged himself back groaning for another armful of the fern.
He afterwards fancied that he spent most of the day crawling between the fire and the thicket, but was never very sure of anything he did just then.