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Updated: May 8, 2025
At night they always slept half a mile or more from the place where they had built their tiny supper-fire. And during these hours of sleep Peter was ready to rouse himself at the slightest sound of movement near them. Scarcely a night passed that his low growl of warning did not bring Jolly Roger out of his slumber, a hand on his gun, and his eyes and ears wide open.
"And to-morrow they're at it again," said Peter. "It won't look the same in the morning " Peter did not answer. "Anyway, you didn't bring on the war, Peter " "It makes a man cold with that kind of cold a supper-fire don't help." "Peter, you've got me stopped with your moods like a woman. Women were always too profound for Mr. B. B. Boylan " "Sorry. You've been a prince. I'll do better now.
I sprang up with the elastic step of the roe, over huge broken fragments of rock, aided by a sort of supernatural strength, the stones rolling down and smashing with strange noises as I was springing over them. From these crumbling heights I looked eastward, and every way, but no friendly light, watch-fire, or supper-fire, was visible.
At night they always slept half a mile or more from the place where they had built their tiny supper-fire. And during these hours of sleep Peter was ready to rouse himself at the slightest sound of movement near them. Scarcely a night passed that his low growl of warning did not bring Jolly Roger out of his slumber, a hand on his gun, and his eyes and ears wide open.
We huddled about it, glad of its warmth, for although the days were hot, the nights, with the wind from the snow-covered peaks overhead, were very cold. The tall, unbranching gray spruce-trunks rose round it like the pillars of a colonnade. The forester blew up his air bed. In front of the supper-fire, the shadowy figures of the cooks moved back and forward.
There IS a spot in Arcady, and at the centre of it there is a weather-worn old house, and not far away a perfect oak tree, and green fields all about, and a pleasant stream fringed with alders in the little valley. And out of the chimney into the sweet, still evening air rises the slow white smoke of the supper-fire.
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