Besides, they had a keen grievance which obscured any worry about Bill--they were hungry, wildly hungry.

The darkness set in, and the feeble light wandered from the smoked chimney of the lantern and made the window black.
Outside, the wind began to scream, sighing in the distance among the firs, and then pouncing upon the cabin and shaking it as though in rage.

The fire would smoke in the stove at every one of these blasts, and the flame leaped in the lantern.
Bull Hunter had to lean closer to the light and frown to make out the print of his book.

The sight of his stolid immobility merely sharpened their hunger, for there was never any passion in this hulk of a man.
When he relaxed over a book the world went out like a snuffed candle for him.

He read slowly, lingering over every page, for now and again his eyes drifted away from the print, and he dreamed over what he had read.