It looked so much like the
first that I feared I had been travelling in a circle. But this one seemed
wider, deeper, and there was no roar of rushing water.
It was time to think of making camp, and so I hurried down the slope. At
the bottom I found a small brook winding among boulders and ledges of rock.
The far side of this canyon was steep and craggy. Soon I discovered a place
where I thought it would be safe to build a fire. My clothes were wet, and
the air had grown keen and cold. Gathering a store of wood, I made my fire
in a niche. For a bed I cut some sweet-scented pine boughs (I thought they
must be from a balsam-tree), and these I laid close up in a rocky corner.
Thus I had the fire between me and the opening, and with plenty of wood to
burn I did not fear visits from bears or lions. At last I lay down, dry and
warm indeed, but very tired and hungry.
Darkness closed in upon me. I saw a few stars, heard the cheery crackle of
my fire, and then I fell asleep. Twice in the night I awakened cold, but by
putting on more firewood I was soon comfortable again.
When I awoke the sun was shining brightly into my rocky bedchamber. The
fire had died out completely, there was frost on the stones. To build up
another fire and to bathe my face in the ice-water of the brook were my
first tasks.
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