There was still an occasional flicker of lightning and mutter of thunder and the darkness remained heavy.

He could dimly see the forms of his comrades lying on their blankets.

Not one of them stirred.

They slept heavily and he rather envied them.

They had little imagination, and, when one was in bad case, he was lucky to be without it.
The figure lying nearest him he took to be that of the hunter, a taciturn man who talked least of them all, and again Robert felt envy because he could lose all care so thoroughly and so easily in sleep.
The man was as still and unconcerned as one of the mountain peaks that looked down upon them.