He was excited by the knowledge that their journey was to end so soon, and he longed to see the valley in which they were to build their homes.

He climbed into the wagon at last but he could not sleep.

His beloved rifle, too, was lying near him, and once he reached out his hand and touched it.
The men, by and by, went to the wagons or, wrapping themselves in blankets, slept before the flames.

Only two remained awake and on guard.
They sat on logs near the outskirts of the camp and held their rifles in their hands.
Henry dropped the canvas edge and sought sleep, but it would not come.
Too many thoughts were in his mind.

He was trying to imagine the beautiful valley, described by Ross, in which they were to build their houses.