Let's shake!" Over the stove they gripped hands.
"My eyes hurt," said DeBar.

"It's the snow and wind, I guess.

Do you mind a little sleep--after we eat?
I haven't slept a wink in three days and nights." "Sleep until you're ready," urged Philip.

"I don't want to fight bad eyes." They ate, mostly in silence, and when the meal was done Philip carefully cleaned his revolver and oiled it with bear grease, which he found in a bottle on the shelf.
DeBar watched him as he wiped his weapon and saw that Philip lubricated each of the five cartridges which he put in the chamber.
Afterward they smoked.
Then DeBar stretched himself out in one of the two bunks, and his heavy breathing soon gave evidence that he was sleeping.
For a time Philip sat beside the stove, his eyes upon the inanimate form of the outlaw.

Drowsiness overcame him then, and he rolled into the other bunk.