Five miles north of Danbury the rain slackened and finally stopped. The cool wind of early dawn sprang up and by the time they started to climb the winding turns of the Heartfield’s Valley, every cloud had been blown out of the sky. The east was painted a faint grayish pink as they roared into a straightaway between the wooded hills. Then the valley opened out, the road hugging the base of the hill on their left, while on the right wide meadows spread a carpet of high grasses that reached to the foot of the opposite hillside.