sound asleep.

Dick awoke far in the night and stirred in his bed of leaves.
But the movement caused him a little pain, and he wondered dimly,
because he had not yet fully come through the gates of sleep, and
he did not remember where he was or what had happened. A tiny
shaft of pale light fell on his forehead, and he looked up through
pine branches. It was the moon that sent the beam down upon him,
but he could see nothing else. He stirred again and the little
pain returned. Then all of it came back to him.

Dick reached out his hand and touched Albert. His brother was
sleeping soundly, and he was still warm, the coat having
protected him. But Dick was cold, despite the pines, the rocks,
and the leaves. It was the cold that had caused the slight pain
in his joints when he moved, but he rose softly lest he wake
Albert, and slipped outside, standing in a clear space between
the pines.

The late moon was of uncommon brilliancy. It seemed a molten
mass of burnished silver, and its light fell over forest and
valley, range and peak. The trees on the slopes stood out like
lacework, but far down in the valley the light seemed to shimmer
like waves on a sea of silver mist. It was all inexpressibly
cold, and of a loneliness that was uncanny. Nothing stirred, not
a twig, not a blade of grass. It seemed to Dick that if even a
leaf fell on the far side of the mountain he could hear it. It
was a great, primeval world, voiceless and unpeopled, brooding in
a dread and mystic silence.

Dick shivered. He had shivered often that night, but now the
chill went to the marrow. It was the chill the first man must
have felt when he was driven from the garden and faced the
globe-girdling forest. He came back to the rock covert and
leaned over until he could hear his brother breathing beneath
the pine boughs. Then he felt the surge of relief, of
companionship--after all, he was not alone in the
wilderness!--and returned to the clear space between the
pines. There he walked up and down briskly, swinging his arms,
exercising all his limbs, until the circulation was fully
restored and he was warm again.

Dick felt the immensity of the problem that lay before him--one
that he alone must solve if it were to be solved at all. He and
Albert had escaped the massacre, but how were they to live in
that wilderness of mountains? It was not alone the question of
food. How were they to save themselves from death by exposure?
Tho