for in wilderness traveling it is often a life saver--Jimmy split some
sticks, and then with his jackknife whittled shavings from the dry
heart. He stopped his knife just short of the end of the stick, until
six or eight long, thin shavings were made, then, with a twist of the
blade, he broke off the stub with the shavings attached to it. Thus the
shavings were held in a bunch.

Several of these bunches he made, working patiently, for patience and
care are as necessary in building a fire as in doing anything else, and
Skipper Ed had taught him that whatever he did should be done with all
the care possible. And so in making a fire he gave as much care to the
cutting of shavings and placing of sticks as though it had been
something of the highest importance, and doing it in this way he seldom
failed to light his fire, rain or shine, with a single match. Fire
making in the open is a fine art.

When Jimmy had collected enough shavings for his purpose, he placed two
of his split sticks upon the ground at right angles to each other, an
end of one close up to the end of the other. Then, holding a bunch of
shavings by the thick, or stub, end, he struck a match and lighted the
thin end, and when it was blazing well placed the unlighted end upon the
two sticks where they met. Other bunches of shavings he laid on this,
the thin ends in the blaze, the thick ends elevated upon the sticks.
Then came small splits, and bigger splits, and in a moment he had a
crackling fire.

He now secured a pole six or seven feet in length, and fixed one end
firmly in the ground, with the other end sloped over the fire. On this
he hung first, by its bale, the old bailing kettle, filled with water,
and then the tea pail, in such a way as to bring them directly over the