"It seems as though there were no end of birds," said Bobby, as they
secured their boat. "I'd like to see what kind of nests those make up
there, and after we eat I'm going to look at some of them."
"You can't get up there," said Jimmy. "I've tried it lots of times. They
take good care to leave their eggs where nobody can get at them."
"Well, I'm going to try, anyhow," Bobby declared, as he turned to the
brook for a kettle of water.
"I wish we had something to boil eggs in," said he, as he set the kettle
of water down by Jimmy, who was whittling shavings for the fire.
"What's the matter with the old tin bucket we use for bailing the
skiff?" Jimmy suggested. "I don't believe it leaks enough to hurt."
"That's so!" said Bobby. "We can boil 'em in that."
With the ax--in this country men never venture from home without an ax,
for in wilderness traveling it is often a life saver--Jimmy split some
sticks, and then with his jackknife whittled shavings from the dry
heart. He stopped his knife just short of the end of the stick, until
six or eight long, thin shavings were made, then, with a twist of the
blade, he broke off the stub with the shavings attached to it. Thus the
shavings were held in a bunch.
Several of these bunches he made, working patiently, for patience and
care are as necessary in building a fire as in doing anything else, and
Skipper Ed had taught him that whatever he did should be done with all
the care possible.
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