Paul's face was pale, but his expression was set in firm resolve, and Henry knew that he would never yield.
After a while the dark began to lighten, and Henry stopped short in surprise.

Paul was walking in such automatic fashion that he almost ran against him before he stopped.

Henry pointed with a long forefinger to a red spot deep in the forest.
"See that ?" he said.
"Yes, I guess it's the sun rising," said Paul, who was staggering a little, and who saw through a cloud, as it were.
Henry looked at him and laughed.
"The sun!" he said.

"Well, Paul, it's the first time I ever knew the sun to rise in the west." "The sun's likely to do anything out here where we are," rejoined Paul.
"That's a fire, a camp fire, Paul," said Henry, "and I'm thinking it must be made by white men." "White men! Friends!" exclaimed Paul.

He stood up straight, and his eyes grew brighter.