did. That same Serge made a fire another time with brimstone and

feathers, or at least the book said so; but as I haven't either of those things, I don't see that it does me any good to remember it.

"Then there was Phil Ryder, who made a fire by cutting open one of his cartridges, rubbing powder on his handkerchief, and shooting into it with his rifle. I have plenty of cartridges, and so could get the powder, but haven't any rifle--so that plan won't work. Flint and steel? That's a way you hear a good deal about, though I never saw any one really try it. Still, I suppose it can be done, and my knife will furnish the steel if I can only find a flint. I wonder what a flint looks like, anyway?"

By this time Todd had returned wearily to the hut and was sitting on the stone that formed its doorstep. Now he began striking at this with the back of his sheath-knife, and finally thought he saw a spark fly from the point of contact; but it was such a fleeting thing, and disappeared so instantly, that he could not be certain.

"Even if it was a spark," he said to himself, "how could anybody make a fire from it? I should want one as big as those that fly from red-hot horseshoes when the blacksmith pounds them, though I doubt if I could get a blaze even then, they go out so quickly. So, Todd Chalmers, you might as well make up your mind to go without a fire, and eat your food raw--that is, if you get any at all, which looks very doubtful just now.

"Oh dear! What do people do when they are cast away on desert islands? Not that this is one, but it's a desert valley, which is a great deal worse, for the others are always in the tropics, and have bread-fruit and things. And then the people always have wrecks to get supplies from, the same as Robinson Crusoe did. If I only had such a snap as he had I wouldn't say a word. Plenty of provisions, muskets, cutlasses, clothing, turtles, grapes, and pieces of eight, besides the knowledge of how to start a fire and make all sorts of things. No wonder he was grateful and contented. He ought to have been. And the Swiss Family Robinson. There's another cheerful crowd who had everything they wanted, and more than they knew what to do with. I just wish I knew what any of those chaps would do right here in my place at this very minute. I guess they'd find out what soft times they had in being wrecked where they were and as they were instead of the way I am. I suppose, though, they would start right off into the woods, where they would run across all sorts of fruits to eat and animals waiting to be cooked, besides everything they needed to make houses and clothing of, so that inside of two weeks they'd be living as comfortably and happily as though they were right alongside a Baltimore market. They'd know how to make a fire without matches too in at least a dozen different ways. That's what would happen if they were book people; but if they were real live folks like I am I don't believe they'd know any more how to get a square meal than I do at this minute.

"Going into the woods, though, and hunting for something to eat isn't a bad idea. There must be nuts or berries, or at least roots that would keep a fellow from starving. I suppose some of them will be poisonous and others won't, and the only way to find out which is which will be to eat them. The poisonous ones will kill you and the others won't. At the same time I shall surely die of hunger if I stay here doing nothing, and so here goes for a breakfast."

Up to this time Todd had been so certain of finding people who would supply him with food, that while fully realizing how faint and weak he was growing for want of it, he had not regarded his situation as perilous. From the moment of discovering the beautiful valley with its abundant water, he had felt that all real danger was over. He had imagined that the natives, after feeding him and allowing him a day's rest in which to regain strength, would willingly guide him to the river in return for the handsome reward that he knew he could safely promise them in his brother's name. Now that there did not appear to be any natives nor any food, it suddenly dawned upon our lad that he was very little better off in this beautiful place than he had been amid all the horrors of the Painted Desert, and it was with a decided feeling of uneasiness that he set forth on his search for food.

He first examined two small structures that he discovered back of the hut. One of these was evidently a fowl-house, and as soon as Todd recognized its character he had visions of fresh eggs. "They will be fine," he said to himself, "even if I can't cook them; for eggs are almost as good raw as cooked, anyway." So, though he had not as yet seen nor heard any hens, he entered the place hopefully. Yes, there were several nests, and an egg in each one. But, alas! they were only nest eggs that had done duty as such for so long a time that after breaking a couple of them poor Todd was glad to make a speedy escape from their vicinity. He was bitterly disappointed, and began to think that the inhabitants of the valley had recently emigrated from it, taking everything eatable, including their fowls, with them.

The other structure proved to be a corral or pen in which goats had been confined, but now it was empty and its gate stood wide open.

Continuing his search for food wearily and despondently, our lad soon came to several small fields, all showing traces of careful cultivation, and all enclosed by stout fences of wattle. In these he found oats, beans, squashes, and corn, of which the last named was the only one that seemed edible in its raw state. So Todd began to gnaw hungrily at an ear that had long since passed its green stage without becoming quite ripe enough to be hard. It was merely tough and toothless. Still it could be eaten, and served to fill, after a fashion, the aching void of which he had long been painfully conscious.

Beyond the fields he found a small grove of peach-trees; but they had been stripped of their fruit some time since, and what of it had fallen to the ground had evidently been devoured by goats, so that not a single peach rewarded his careful search.

By this time the sun stood directly overhead, and was pouring down a heat so intense as to make him feel giddy. So the boy gathered up his spoils, consisting of a sheaf of ripened oats, a dozen pods of beans, a green squash, and two ears of tough corn, with which he returned to the hut. There, after refreshing himself with a copious drink of water, he attempted to eat in turn each of the things he had brought with him. The green squash and raw beans were so unpalatable that he threw them out of the door in disgust. The oats were fairly good; but extracting the kernel from each separate grain was such slow work that he decided the attempt to sustain life in that manner would prove only another form of starvation.

"Oh, for a big dish of oatmeal and cream!" he exclaimed. "But I don't suppose I shall ever see one again."

He also thought of squash pies and baked beans with regretful longings, while the tough corn at which he gnawed with aching jaws suggested muffins, hot cakes, corn bread, hominy, and all the other attractive forms in which maize can be prepared, until he groaned aloud to think how very far beyond his present reach all such things were.