ought a flame. It was a long, hard experiment; several times he
stopped to rest; but the consciousness of the skeptical expression he
knew to be on her face sent him quickly back again to his task. At last
the moss began to burn. True, it smoked much and flamed little, but he
gathered twigs from the shrubs near by and in time had a good fire. Then
he carried Claire to the rock and set her down beside it. She leaned her
elbow on the edge and said, happily: "It's quite a success, Lawrence. I
really feel as though we were progressing."

"Our woodcraft will doubtless improve with experience," he answered.

"Next, I guess we had better bathe your ankle," he observed, as though
giving due care to the order of procedure.

"Very well," she replied.

At her suggestion he gathered moss and wet it in the tiny stream. She
wound it about her ankle and held it tightly.

"Now the surgeon orders splints and bandages," she said.

He brought several sticks, and with a strip which she tore from the
lining of his coat, she bound them fast.

"There," she said, sighing, for the pain was wearing. "That ought to
help. I wonder what our distant grandparents did in such cases."

"Made the best of it," he said cheerfully. "Many of them died, I
suppose."

"And we are back again at their game. Whether we can outwit the master
strategist and survive, is at least interesting to try."

"In any event, we'll have to eat to do it," he said shortly.

She studied the greenery about her, meditatively. "It's probable that
most any of these things are edible, but are they nourishing?"

"We'll try them. Which shall I get?" he asked.

"I hate to start in on roots or leaves. If we only had some berries!"

He got up determinedly. "I'll go down the ravine and hunt. If I get
mixed in directions, I'll shout."

She watched him go, and when he had disappeared through the trees she
felt strangely sadder and very much alone. She fell to wondering if he
were really so necessary to her. Sooner or later would come the
inevitable problem between them. Would he fall in love with her, and
would she, in the days that they might be alone together, find his
companionship growing into any really vital proportion in her life? That
she, Claire Barkley, rich and independent, whose life had been selfish
to a marked degree and who had never considered anything except from the
point of view of vigor, perfection, or beauty, should ever love a blind
man was incredible.