I was now thoroughly convinced that my attempts at making stone arrow-heads was a complete failure and I seated myself before the fire to rest and think. As I sat there, gazing idly at the flames, I noticed the bits of quartz glowing red among the coals, and, impelled by a vague curiosity, I raked them out upon the hearth. Thinking to cool the stones so I could examine them, I poured some water upon them and instantly the hot quartz flew into pieces. Surprised at this, I picked up one of the fragments and was struck by its knife-like edge and smooth surface, and like an inspiration it dawned upon me that here, perhaps, was a solution of my problem.
If water poured upon hot quartz would cause the stone to sliver off in this way, why would it not be possible to heat stones, drop water upon them in the proper places, and thus break off pieces until the desired shape was produced? It was certainly worth trying, and without more ado I set to work to try the experiment.
Placing a lump of quartz in the fire, I waited until it was red-hot, and then, pulling it out, I poured a little water upon it. With a sharp crack it burst into several pieces. Selecting the best of these, I again placed them on the coals. When they were well heated I drew one out and very carefully dropped water upon one edge. Pieces flaked from it wherever the water touched the hot stone. While my first attempt was a failure and the piece of quartz refused to assume the form of an arrow-head, yet I realized that this was due to my lack of skill and care and that my theory was correct.
Over and over again I heated stones and flaked them into shape by means of drops of cold water, and although I did not succeed in making a single arrow-head before darkness came and I was obliged to cease, yet I felt convinced that with practice I could produce keen, well-shaped arrow-points, and I went to bed determined to resume my labors on the morrow and to persevere until I was successful.
I heard no sound from the lynx, or any other prowler, that night, and found the deadfalls undisturbed when I opened my door in the morning. As I approached the tree where I had placed the lynx-trap, I saw it was sprung, but the lynx was not in it, although a few wisps of dark-brown hair and numerous bloodstains proved that some creature had been struck by the heavy descending log. All about there were lynx tracks in the snow. Here and there I saw smaller tracks, and for a few moments I was puzzled, for the hairs upon the tree trunk did not look exactly like those of a lynx and much of the blood was trodden into the snow by the creature’s feet. Then, as I examined the trap more carefully, I discovered the tip of a bushy black tail and realized what had happened. The fisher-cat had been caught in the deadfall and had been found and devoured by the lynx. I smiled as I thought how one thief had made away with another, but I regretted the loss of the fisher’s warm skin. I reset the deadfall and then visited my other traps. Three hares were hanging in the twitch-ups, and the fact that they had not been disturbed proved that my surmises in regard to the fisher’s fate had been correct. One of the deadfalls contained a skunk, which I did not use, although its fine coat of black-and-white fur was a great temptation despite its odor. Another deadfall contained a marten, while the others had not been disturbed.