He
must think of some other way of getting fire. He remembered that once,
when a boy at home, he had in playing with a stick made it hot by twirling
it on end on a piece of wood. "I will try this," he thought. He
searched for a good hard stick and a piece of wood upon which to turn
or twirl it with his hands. Having found the best materials at hand,
he began to twirl the stick. He made a little hollow in the block of
wood in which to turn his upright stick. There was heat but no fire.
He twirled and twirled, but he could not get the wood hot enough to
blaze up or ignite. He had not skill. Besides his hands were not used
to such rough treatment. Soon they blistered and this method had to
be given up.
"I must have fire," he still thought, and recalled the sparks that
flew from the stone pavements of the streets when the iron shoes of
the horses struck them as they slipped and strained at their cruel
loads. Why may I not get fire by striking together two stones? He
sought out two hard stones and with great diligence kept striking them
together until his strength gave out, and he was obliged again to
acknowledge failure.
He remembered that sometimes travelers put the meat underneath the
saddle and ride on it until it is soft. He tried it with pounding.
He laid some of the meat on a flat stone and pounded it. It became
quite soft and tasted very well. He then tried hanging it in the sun
and finally wrapped it in leaves and buried it for a few hours in the
hot sand.
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