He sat there a long time, his being radiating with physical
comfort. The moccasins dried on one side, and he turned the
other. Finally they dried all over and all through, and he put
them on again. Then he hung the blanket on the bark wall near
the fire, and it, too, would be dry in another hour or so. He
foresaw a warm and dry place for the night, and sleep. Now if
one only had food! But he must do without that for the present.
He rose and tested all his bones and muscles. No stiffness or
soreness had come from the rain and cold, and he was satisfied.
He was fit for any physical emergency. He looked out through the
crevice. Night was coming, and on the little island in the swamp
it looked inexpressibly black and gloomy. His stomach
complained, but he shrugged his shoulders, acknowledging
primitive necessity, and resumed his seat by the fire. There he
sat until the blanket had dried, and deep night had fully come.
In the last hour or two Henry did not move. He remained before
the fire, crouched slightly forward, while the generous heat fed
the flame of life in him. A glowing bar, penetrating the crevice
at the door, fell on the earth outside, but it did not pass
beyond the close group of circling trees.
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