John did not want to chance the slippery log and continued down the east bank, his search for a place to spend the night becoming more urgent. Shadows were lengthening and the overcast sky would provide little light. He spotted two fallen trees lying parallel to one another about fifteen feet apart. Perfect. He could lay against one for partial protection and build a fire in the middle. The other tree would help reflect heat toward him. He gathered some dry grasses and fallen bark as well as smaller twigs and worked a small fire into a decent blaze. The light helped him gather more branches and a few logs, eventually stockpiling enough for the night. He found several small white pines and stripped the lower branches. He placed a couple on the fire which caused an enormous billowing of smoke. That should keep the mosquitoes away. The rest he laid out in a crude mattress. After half a granola bar and a sip of water, he nestled into his pine-needle bed with his back against the tree, facing the fire. He stared into the flickering flames, wondering what tomorrow would bring, and eventually fell into a fitful sleep.