Our blankets we wrapped around
our shoulders, our feet we hung over the ledge toward the blaze,
our backs we leaned against the hollow slant of the cave's
wall. We were not uncomfortable. The beat of the rain sprang up
in the darkness, growing louder and louder, like horsemen passing
on a hard road. Gradually we dozed off.
For a time everything was pleasant. Dreams came fused with
realities; the firelight faded from consciousness or returned
fantastic to our half-awakening; a delicious numbness overspread
our tired bodies. The shadows leaped, became solid, monstrous.
We fell asleep.
After a time the fact obtruded itself dimly through our stupor
that the constant pressure of the hard rock had impeded our
circulation. We stirred uneasily, shifting to a better position.
That was the beginning of awakening. The new position did not
suit. A slight shivering seized us, which the drawing closer of
the blanket failed to end. Finally I threw aside my hat and
looked out. Jed Parker, a vivid patch-work comforter wrapped
about his shoulders, stood upright and silent by the fire. I
kept still, fearing to awaken the others. In a short time I
became aware that the others were doing identically the same
thing.
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