He almost said "I'm sorry, Clay," but remember, what I was thinking by the fire - that friendship is not based on pity. So he just said, "Good night" and went to where people were sleeping. Hot - thought Frum. - Too hot, if you remember how last night was pouring; but now the air is fixed and blankets, which he covered with, are a heavy burden. In the open bedroom window - not a breath of wind; curtains hanging motionless. He did not want to sleep, even though he rose early to see how Loudon and his men will travel to Miles City. Ten yet - but it seemed to him that he was lying here for twelve hours.