Struck against iron pyrites, a larger, fatter,
hotter spark could be obtained than with any other natural combination.
It was Dulnop's luck to see the outcropping. He found the mineral
exposed to plain view, a few feet above the bottom of the ravine the two
were ascending. With a shout of triumph he leaped upon the rock.
"Here, Corrus!" he yelled, dancing like mad. "Here is the gift of the
gods!"
The older man didn't attempt to hide his delight. He grabbed his
companion and hugged him until his ribs began to crack. Then, with a
single blow from his huge club, the herdsman knocked the specimen clear
of the slate in which it was set. Such was their excitement, neither
dreamed of marking the place in any way.
First satisfying themselves that the pyrites really could produce
"stars" from the flint, the two hurried down-stream, in search of the
right kind of wood. In half an hour Corrus came across a dead, worm-
eaten tree, from which he nonchalantly broke off a limb as big as his
leg. The interior was filled with a dry, stringy rot, just the right
thing for making a spark "live."
Then came a real difficulty. It will be better appreciated when the
men's childish nature is borne in mind. Their patience was terribly
strained in their attempts to make the sparks fly into the tinder.
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