I902] A NIGHT IN THE SLEEPING-BAG 355 



as to the sort of night that is before us. The first half-hour 

 is spent in constant shifting and turning as each inmate of 

 the bag tries to make the best of his hard mattress or to draw 

 the equally hard covering closer about him. There is a de- 

 sultory muffled conversation broken by the chattering of teeth. 

 Suddenly the bag begins to vibrate, and we know that someone 

 has got the shivers. It is very contagious, this shivering, and 

 paroxysm after paroxysm passes through the whole party. We 

 do not try to check it : the violent shaking has a decidedly 

 warming effect ; besides, it is a necessary part of the programme, 

 and must be got through before we can hope for sleep. 

 Presently we hear our neighbour marking time, and we rather 

 unnecessarily ask him if his feet are cold ; he explains their 

 exact state in the most forcible language at his command. 



All this time we are mentally surveying our own recumbent 

 figure and wondering whether the parts that feel so cold are 

 really properly covered or whether our garments have got 

 rucked up in the struggle for ease. Our hands are tucked 

 away in some complicated fashion that experience has com- 

 mended ; they are useless for exploring. Besides, we know of 

 old how far imagination can lead one. Our thoughts, taking 

 flying journeys round the world, flit past the tropics to log-wood 

 firesides, but they stop nowhere until they have raced back to 

 present discomfort. The last squirm brought the wind-guard 

 of our helmet across our face. It is crusted with the ice of the 

 day's march ; this is now gently thawing, and presently a drop 

 trickles down our nose. Our thoughts become fixed on that 

 drop. It is very irritating ; we long to wipe it away, but that 

 means taking out one hand and disarranging the whole scheme 

 of defence against the cold. We are debating the question 

 when a second drop descends. Flesh and blood cannot stand 

 this : out comes our hand, and for the next quarter of an hour 

 we are pitching and tossing about to try to regain the old 

 position. 



It is all very small, very trivial ; yet there are probably few 

 who have not passed sufticiently restless nights to appreciate 

 how these trivialities weigh on such an occasion, and here we 



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