He lay warm and dry in a great heap of shucks, and heard the wind and rain beat vainly upon walls and roof and the thunder rumble as it moved off toward the east.

He felt to the full the power of contrast.
"Fine in here, isn't it, Sergeant ?" he said.
"Fine as silk," replied the sergeant from his own heap of shucks.

"We played in big luck to find this place, 'cause I think it's going to rain hard all night." "Let it.

It can't get me.

Sergeant, I've always known that corn is our chief staple, but I never knew before that the shucks, which so neatly enclose the grains and cob, were such articles of luxury.