And then something cold touched his hand. He opened his eyes and saw
that it was Tumbu's nose; Tumbu, who had something strange in his
mouth--something like a rabbit and yet like a squirrel!
In reality it was a fresh-killed young marmot, an animal that lives amid
the snow and ice and rocks of the very highest hills. Tumbu, having
handed over charge of the children, must have gone off on his own
hunting, found a colony of the quaint creatures, and, as usual, brought
home his bag! Roy did not in the least know what the marmot was, but he
saw it was something to eat! The relief was too much for him! Here, at
least, was supper. He flung his arms round Tumbu's neck and burst into
tears, murmuring with choking sobs that he, Roy, had been foolish, but
Tumbu was a wise, wise, good doggie. And so he was!
After this Roy felt better, and having, as all Indian boys used to have
in those days, a flint and steel with him, began to look around for fuel
with which to light a fire and cook the supper. There were, of course,
no trees and no bushes; but right away at the farther end of the long
valley there were some patches of very dark green. They did not look
promising, but he would go and see. They proved to be a creeping sort of
evergreen plant that trailed its stiff branches right on the very
ground. He picked a bit, and on trying to light it, found to his
surprise, that it blazed up in a fierce flame.
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