“We have built in time,” he said. “All this heaviness and cloudiness foretells a storm and I think we’ll sleep under a roof tonight. What say you, Sol?”
“I shorely will, Henry. Them that wants to lay on the ground, an’ take a wettin’ kin take it, but, ez fur me, a floor, a roof an’ four walls is jest what I want.”
“Everybody will agree with you on that,” said Paul.
No one spoke again for a long time. Meanwhile the vapors and mists thickened and the skies became almost as black as night. The whole swamp, save the little island on which they sat, was lost in the dusk, and a wind, heavy with damp, came moaning out of the vast wilderness. Thunder rumbled on the horizon, then cracked directly overhead, and flashes of lightning cut the blackness.
The five retreated to their hut, and, with a mighty rushing of wind and a great sweep of rain, the storm burst over the oasis.
CHAPTER VII
INTO THE NORTH
When the wilderness was under the beat of wind or rain or hail or snow Henry and Paul, if sheltered well, never failed to feel an increase of comfort, even of luxury. The contrast between the storm without and the dryness within gave an elemental feeling of relaxation and content that nothing else could supply. It had been so at the rocky hollow, and it was so here.