The pair waded around examining guy-ropes, stakes, the protective walls raised of hay bales.

They took advantage of a sudden dropping of the wind to go among the small tents, thrusting their flares within each and having a look, to make certain no sleeper of the day shift had been overlooked.

Then at last they stumbled up the street to Bryant's shack.
The wind now had utterly died away.

The snow had resumed its thick, silent fall straight to earth.

Carrigan was kicking his boots clean against the door-sill when Lee exclaimed, "Listen to that, Pat!" Carrigan wiped the moisture from his ears and harkened.
"That's the Limited coming, and making no stops," he remarked.