Halstead was in a fevered, querulous mood and kept calling to us for something or other all night long.

Whenever he fell asleep he tumbled about and hurt his ankle.

That would partly wake him and set him crying, or shouting what he would do to Alfred.
Throughout the night the roar of the stream outside grew louder, and at daybreak it was running feather white.

As for the snow, most of it had disappeared; stumps, logs and stones showed through it everywhere; the swamps were flooded, and every hole, hollow and depression was full of water.
That was Wednesday.

We made a soup of the beef bone, cooked johnny-cake from the corn meal and kept Halstead as quiet as possible.