The cold was intense and, in spite of swinging his legs and arms, Charlie felt that his vital heat was decreasing.
"This is awful, Stanislas. I do not think we can last on till morning."
"I begin to have doubts myself, sir. Perhaps it would be better to leap down and make a fight of it."
"We might shoot some of them first," Charlie said. "How many charges have you?"
"I have only two, besides one in the barrel."
"And I have only three," Charlie said. "Powder has run very short. The captain was saying, yesterday, that we must send to the village and try to get some more. Still, six shots will help us."
"Not much, sir. There must be thirty or forty of them now. I have seen some come from the other way. I suppose they were part of the pack that followed the horses."
Charlie sat for some time thinking. Then he exclaimed:
"I think this is a dead tree."
"It is, sir. I noticed it when we climbed up. The head has gone, and I think it must have been struck with lightning last summer."