The flame touched the sticks at last, took gradual hold upon them--hesitated--took a stronger hold -- hesitated again--held its breath five heart-breaking seconds, then gave a sort of human gasp and went out.
Nobody said a word for several minutes.

It was a solemn sort of silence; even the wind put on a stealthy, sinister quiet, and made no more noise than the falling flakes of snow.

Finally a sad-voiced conversation began, and it was soon apparent that in each of our hearts lay the conviction that this was our last night with the living.

I had so hoped that I was the only one who felt so.

When the others calmly acknowledged their conviction, it sounded like the summons itself.