"The pump is not frozen ?" he asks.
"Is there plenty of wood in the house ?" Assured that the frail wooden fortress is provided with water, wood and food, he gives himself up to the indolences of winter quarters, smoking pipes innumerable while the women-folk are busy with the evening meal.

The cold snaps the nails in the plank walls with reports like pistol-shots; the stove crammed with birch roars lustily; the howling of the wind without is like the cries of a besieging host.
"It must be a bad day in the woods!" thinks Maria to herself; and then perceives that she has spoken aloud.
"In the woods they are better off than we are here," answers her father.

"Up there where the trees stand close together one does not feel the wind.

You can be sure that Esdras and Da'Be are all right." "Yes ?" But it was not of Esdras and Da'Be that she had just been thinking..