The fog had lifted somewhat, but the night was heavy, damp and dark.

There was an abundance of fallen wood, and the veterans soon built long rows of fires which contributed wonderfully to their cheerfulness.
"There's nothing like a fine fire on a cold, dark night," said Sergeant Whitley, holding his hands over the flames.

"Out on the plains when there was only a hundred or so of us, an' nothin' on any side five hundred miles away 'xcept hostile Indians, an' a blizzard whistlin' an' roarin', with the mercury thirty degrees below zero, it was glorious to have a big fire lighted in a hollow or a dip an' bend over the coals, until the warmth went right through you." "It was the power of contrast," said Warner sagely.

"The real comfort from the fire was fifty per cent and the howling of the icy gale, in which you might have frozen to death, but didn't, was fifty per cent more.

That's why I'm feeling so good now, although I'd say that those red cedars and their dark background are none too cheerful." "I've got two good blankets," said Pennington, who was returning from a trip further down the line, "and I'm going to sleep.