Then he got on his feet awkwardly and set off for Festing's shack.
The rain and cold revived him, but walking was difficult, and when he reached the shack he fell into a chair.

Festing was not in, and Charnock remembered he had said something about having extra work to do.

It was dark, but the log fire threw out a red light, and by and by Charnock, glancing round as the shadows receded, thought there was something unusual on the table.

It looked like a bottle, but they kept no liquor in the shack.

Festing was abstemious but Charnock suspected that he had practised some self-denial for his sake.
He waited until a blaze sprung up, and then his relaxed pose stiffened.
It was a bottle of whisky, better stuff than the railroaders generally drank, for he knew the label.