He could no longer hear the storm, and he wondered if the fury of it was spent.
Every few minutes he looked through the slit in the snow wall.

The last time, half an hour after Porter had returned to his blanket, Josephine Tavish was sitting up.

She was very wide awake.

McKay watched her as she rose slowly to her knees, and then to her feet.

She bent over Porter and Breault to make sure they were asleep, and then came straight toward the door of his room.
He lay back on his blanket, with the fingers of one hand gripped closely about Peter.
"Be quiet, boy," he whispered.