And then it happened. At a place where there were no signs, where the soft, unbroken snow seemed to advertise solidity beneath, the man broke through. It was not deep. He wet himself halfway to the knees before he floundered out to the firm crust. He was angry, and cursed his luck aloud. He had hoped to get into camp with the boys at six o'clock, and this would delay him an hour, for he would have to build a fire and dry out his footgear. He turned aside to the bank which he had just climbed. On top, tangled in the underbrush about the trunks of several small spruce trees, was a high- water deposit of dry firewood—sticks and twigs, principally, but also larger portions of seasoned branches and fine, dry, last year's grasses. He threw down several large pieces on top of the snow. This served for a foundation and prevented the young flame from drowning itself in the snow it otherwise would help. The flame he got by touching a match to a small shred of birch bark that he took from his pocket. This burned even more readily than paper. Placing it on the founda- tion, he fed the young flame with wisps of dry grass and with the tiniest dry twigs.
STORY CONTINUES ON PAGE 30 >
www.distinctlymontana.com
29
THE SUN WAS TOO FAR SOUTH ON ITS WINTER JOURNEY TO CLEAR THE HORIZON...
