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The Scouts of the Valley by Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander) Altsheler
page 44 of 410 (10%)

Now Henry, all his preparations made, no detail neglected,
proceeded to luxuriate. He spread the soaked blanket out on the
bark floor, took off the sodden moccasins and placed them at one
angle of the fire, while he sat with his bare feet in front.
What a glorious warmth it was! It seemed to enter at his toes
and proceed upward through his body, seeking out every little
nook and cranny, to dry and warm it, and fill it full of new glow
and life.

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
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