It succumbed at last, dying hard, with many a finishing thrust.
The gray morning light was beginning to outline the dreary shore.

The chilly rain still poured.

The reader can imagine in what a plight we were.

The fire had gone out.

Our skin-tent lay in a wad; and in the midst of our beds sprawled the dead sea-horse, weltering in its blood; while we ourselves, drenched with rain and bespattered with gore, stood round, steaming from our warlike exertions.
"This is a pretty how-d'y'-do!" Kit exclaimed.