There was a pile of wood near at hand and, gathering numerous dry
fagots, the boy staggered dizzily toward the heap of ashes in the
center of the cave. It seemed to him that the first thing to do
was to get warm.

He was hungry, too, but warmth was the important thing just then.
A few red coals still remained, and a blaze soon grew under the
boy's careful hands. In a short time there was a roaring fire.

After thawing the chill out of his bones, the boy began looking
around for his friend of the night before. He looked at his watch
and noted that it was eight o'clock. His revolver was gone but his
search-light was still in his pocket.

He remembered in a moment that he had handed his revolver to
Thede before starting to cross the light zone in the center
of the cavern. Whatever had taken place during his hours of
unconsciousness, it was evident that he had not been robbed.

It seemed to the boy, as he stood looking through the opening which
gave a view of the forest to the north, that he had lain on the
hard floor of the cavern for countless aeons. He did not remember
what had caused the wound on his head. He only knew that he had
been seized with a sudden dizziness and had fallen, after hearing
pistol shots.

Standing before the fire with the cheerful light of the blaze on
one side and the dazzling light of the sun on the snow on the other
side, the uncanny incidents of the night before seemed like a dream
to the boy.