at the door, fell on the earth outside, but it did not pass
beyond the close group of circling trees. The rain still fell
with uncommon steadiness and persistence, but at times hail was
mingled with it. Henry could not remember in his experience a
more desolate night. It seemed that the whole world dwelt in
perpetual darkness, and that he was the only living being on it.
Yet within the four or five feet square of the hut it was warm
and bright, and he was not unhappy.

He would forget the pangs of hunger, and, wrapping himself in the
dry blanket, he lay down before the bed of coals, having first
raked ashes over them, and he slept one of the soundest sleeps of
his life. All night long, the dull cold rain fell, and with it,
at intervals, came gusts of hail that rattled like bird shot on
the bark walls of the hut. Some of the white pellets blew in at
the door, and lay for a moment or two on the floor, then melted
in the glow of the fire, and were gone.

But neither wind, rain nor hail awoke Henry. He was as safe, for
the time, in the hut on the islet, as if he were in the fort at
Pittsburgh or behind the palisades at Wareville. Dawn came, the
sky still heavy and dark with clouds, and the rain still falling.

Henry, after his first sense of refreshment and pleasure, became
conscious of a fierce hunger that no amount of the will could now
keep quiet. His was a powerful system, needing much nourishment,
and he must eat. That hunger became so great that it was acute
physical pain. He was assailed by it at all points, and it could
be repelled by only one thing, food. He must go forth, taking
all risks, and seek it.