ITTER cold with high gusts greet us as we depart, not a good time of year to be moving about in the out-of-doors. Mr. Burton assures me that we should have no trouble from any indians, much to the disappointment of the brothers Bryant. We crossed the river to the North and then turned Eastward along a well beaten trail. The trail lead East Northeast along fairly even ground for the majority of the morning.
I wore my heavy gray wool overshirt on top of my heavy black wool coat, and a wool scarf about my head and ears (and atop my wig) to fend off the cold. I have not missed the looks given me by Mr. Flynn, Burton and the brothers Bryant concerning my dark cloathes. Each of them, being poor men, wear simple drab brown cloathing in comparison to my own.
We travel all day without stopping, save a few moments to refresh our supplies of water, we even walk whilst eating. It is far easier to take a few handfuls of sustenance from one's haversack while moving, than to spend a prolonged period exposed to these elements.
My travel companions move quickly, their feet sure and silent on the cold, dry ground. We have made good progress today. As the sun sets, we turn off the trail and into the woods to find shelter for the night. We built a fire, but it did very little, shedding more light than warmth. The night sky is clear and cloudless, I can see every star in the Heavens against the black pool of the sky.
I lay my wool blankets out atop a bed of leaves, careful that the red one goes underneath and the dark gray one goes above, to keep me hidden in the night. I sleep with all my cloathing on, even my boots stay on tonight. I simply loosen my neck stock and unbutton my shirt collar and the top two buttons of my waistcoat for comfort.