All round him the great burned pines towered in black and shadowy columns against the silvery light, and a stillness that was almost oppressive brooded over the valley.

No sound of running water came out of it, and there was not a breath of wind.

It was cool, however, and Weston drew his dusty blanket higher about his shoulders as he glanced round the camp.
Devine lay close by sleeping like a log; but Grenfell was huddled at the foot of a tree, and it became evident to his comrade that he, at least, was wide awake.
"Haven't you done enough to make you sleep ?" Weston asked.
Grenfell laughed softly.
"I haven't closed my eyes.

I can't keep them off the range in front of us." Weston looked up and saw a huge black rampart cutting sharp and clear against the blueness of the night.
"Don't tell me that you recognize it," he said.
"Three nicks," replied Grenfell.

"After the third one, a rounded peak.
I can't tell whether I remember it from another time, but that description came to me as if I'd used it, and I think I must have done so.