Jack Carleton took only time enough to comprehend these points when he set to work kindling a fire against the trunk of a tree which grew close to the ravine. When that was fairly going, he cut the choicest slices from his game, and it was speedily broiled over the blaze. There was no water, so far as he knew, closer than the creek, but he did not specially miss it. Seasoned by his keen hunger, the venison was the very acme of deliciousness, and he ate until he craved no more.