These last eight hundred yards are going to make us weep before we're through, I'm guessing.
But just the same, I'm counting on this dynamite.

It can't blow like this forever, and the minute it quits we'll grab hold." Lee twisted about to look at a window.

The particles of snow were biting at the glass relentlessly, while the howl of the gale told only too plainly how the drifts were being heaped on the dark mesa.
"We'll finish this ditch on time even if hell freezes over," he said, slowly.

"I'm not going to be beaten at this late day." He continued to sit gazing at the frosted panes and harkening to the roaring blasts.

On the floor and in the chairs the blanketed men slept heavily.