A light rain fell that night, but they slept under a little shed, once attached to a house which had been destroyed by fire.

In some way the shed had escaped the flames, and it now came into timely use.
The five, cunning in forest practice, drew up brush on the sides, and half-burned timber also, and, spreading their blankets on ashes which had not long been cold, lay well sheltered from the drizzling rain, although they did not sleep for a long time.
It was the hottest period of the year in America, but the night had come on cool, and the rain made it cooler.

The five, profiting by experience, often carried with them two light blankets instead of one heavy one.
With one blanket beneath the body they could keep warmer in case the weather was cold.
Now they lay in a row against the standing wall of the old outhouse, protected by a six- or seven-foot slant of board roof.

They had eaten of a deer that they had shot in the morning, and they had a sense of comfort and rest that none of them had known before in many days.
Henry's feelings were much like those that he had experienced when he lay in the bushes in the little canoe, wrapped up from the storm and hidden from the Iroquois.

But here there was an important increase of pleasure, the pattering of the rain on the board roof, a pleasant, soothing sound to which millions of boys, many of them afterwards great men, have listened in America.
It grew very dark about them, and the pleasant patter, almost musical in its rhythm, kept up.