Then began that long period of waiting so terrible to a lad of his type.

It seemed that the hours would never pass.
The coals on the hearth were dead now, and there was no light at all in the cabin.

But his eyes grew used to the dusk, and he saw his comrade sitting on one of the benches, one rifle across his lap and the other near, always listening.
Paul listened, too.

The night before the rain had fallen on the board roof with a soothing sound, but now he could hear nothing, not even the wind among the trees.

He began to long for something that would break this ominous, deadly silence, be it ever so slight--the sound of a falling nut from a tree, or of a wild animal stirring in the undergrowth--but nothing came.