There was a pickle. Tell the truth to the lady with the knife spear or do this the hard way. His mistrustful nature won out without much of a struggle. "Got a boot lace. Jes' as good. Warms me up, too."

He moved over to the fireplace and dug his small pocket knife out to start shaving kindling. He'd need a fine pile of it for this. The furniture bits were better than campfire wood. There was a flat board he could carve out into the notch and shallow shape he needed, and the spindle of a chair back was an ideal shape for looping the lace around once he had it out of his boot.

"Used t' do this all the time on the road." He did it when his matches were wet or he and Lennie ran out between jobs. It required stamina and patience. It was harder in the confines of a fireplace but not impossible. He kept pressure on the spindle and very quickly sawed the lace back and forth, again and again until the pile of kindling around it began smoking. Only when a decent sized plume of smoke curled did he set his make-shift tool aside and begin carefully blowing. He wasn't inclined to conversation during the laborious process, but afterward he sat back on his heels in satisfaction. "There we go. Ain't even fully dark yet."