As he lies under the ledge with his blanket drawn around him, he is warm and dry and his sense of comfort, contrasting his pleasant little den with the fierce storm without, becomes one of luxury." "I suppose of course, Lennox, that you can shut your eyes and see him once more without any trouble." "In all truth and certainty I can, Will.

He is lying on a stone shelf with a stone ledge above him.

His blanket takes away the hardness of the stone that supports him.

He sees boughs and sticks whirled past by the storm, but none of them touches him.

He hears the wind whistling and screaming at a pitch so fierce that it would terrify one unused to the forest, but it is only a song in the ears of Tayoga.