The sun sank; the air grew very cold. Up here there was nothing moving but themselves; the deer and the pheasants and the squirrels had gone to bed. The pines were soughing mournfully in an evening breeze.
The lieutenant came to a stop before a reddish cliff which overhung and formed a shallow cave.
"We've done enough for one day," he panted. Even he looked tired out. "I think we'll gain the top shortly in the morning. We're into snow, and the trees are thinning; the top cannot be far. We'll take advantage of this cave, for the night. It's a shelter, at least."
"That's one piece of luck," the doctor laughed.
"We'll bunk together, so as to keep warm," announced the lieutenant. "We'll waive question of rank—we're all men, serving our Flag."
He made no mention of the fact that they were tired, hungry and thirsty after a long day's climb, and that they did not have blankets or food or water. He seemed to think that if he could stand it, they should stand it, too, for the sake of duty. That was his style—that was one reason the men loved him. He never asked them to do more than he did, and he never took his ease even when he might, as commander.
But this proved to be a miserable night. The
