I did not think anything of it at the time, concluding that he had gone to sleep.

His back was resting against mine, and it seemed to grow colder and colder, till at last it felt like ice.
At length the air began to grow grey with light, then golden arrows sped across the snow, and at last the glorious sun peeped above the lava wall and looked in upon our half-frozen forms.

Also it looked upon Ventvoegel, sitting there amongst us, _stone dead_.

No wonder his back felt cold, poor fellow.

He had died when I heard him sigh, and was now frozen almost stiff.