Despite their jesting they pitched the camp for that critical night with the greatest care, making sure that they had the most sheltered place in the canyon, and ranging the horses and mules almost by the side of them. More clothing was brought from the packs and every man was wrapped up like a mummy, the fur coats they had made for themselves proving the best protection. Although the manifold wrappings kept Will's blood warm in his veins, the night itself and their situation created upon his mind the effect of intense cold. The wind rose all the time, as if it were determined to blow away the side of the mountain, and it howled and shrieked over their heads in all the keys of terror. None of them could sleep for a long time. "It's real skeery," said the Little Giant. "Mebbe nobody hez ever been up here so high before, an' this old giant of a mountain don't like our settin' here on his neck. I've seen a lot o' the big peaks in the Rockies, w'arin' thar white hats o' snow, an' they allers 'pear to me to be alive, lookin' down so solemn an' sometimes so threatenin'. Hark to that, will you! I know it wuz jest the screamin' o' the wind, but it sounded to me like the howlin' o' a thousand demons. Are you shore, young William, that thar ain't imps an' critters o' that kind on the tops o' high mountings, waitin' fur innocent fellers like us?" Will slept at last, but the mind that can remain troubled and uneasy through sleep awoke him several times in the course of the night, and always he heard the fierce, threatening blasts shrieking and howling over the mountain. His eyes yet heavy with sleep, it seemed to him in spite of himself that there must be something in the Little Giant's suggestion that imps and demons on the great peaks resented their presence. He knew that it could not be true, but he felt as if it were, and once he rose all swathed in many garments and stroked the noses of the horses and mules, which were moving uneasily and showing other signs of alarm. Dawn came, clear, with the wind not so high, but icily cold. They fed the last of the little store of hay to the animals, ate cold food themselves, and then crept out of the canyon, leading their horses and mules with the most extreme care, a care that nevertheless would have been in vain had not all the beasts been trained to mountain climbing. It was a most perilous day, but the next night found them so far down on the western slope of the White Dome that they had reached the timber line again. The trees were dwarfed and scraggly, but they were trees just the same, affording shelter from wind and cold, and fuel for a fire, which the travelers built, providing themselves once more with warm food and coffee as sizzling hot as they could stand it. The animals found a little solace for their hunger by chewing on the tenderest parts of the bushes.