Through the day he noticed that Dick no longer prowled from door to window, looking at the storm. He sat, instead, immovable in the big chair by the fire, only stirring now and then to add fresh logs to the blaze. The strain of his journey through the wood, his anxiety about his brother, with these present hardships, had tended to break him sooner than Hugh. He tried to speak some words of broken apology when Hugh went about the work of the cabin alone, but the truth was plain enough, that he could scarcely move. Nicholas lay listlessly in a corner, following Hugh always with great hungry eyes. Night seemed to come with unbelievable slowness, even though the winter days had grown so short.
They crawled into bed at last, too weak and dispirited, almost, to bid each other good-night. Hugh tossed and turned upon his bunk; he was too hungry to sleep. Suddenly sitting bolt upright, he addressed Dick, who was awake also, even though he lay so still.
