The other shot a quick glance across his shoulder, and replied, with a beaten air--
"I could believe it was myself said that."
"But I mean it. There's the difference. Won't you let me bind up your arm?"
Hawke looked at him again and rolled over to face him, his eyes alive with hope.
"Oh, if you will," he said. "But be quick! quick! Use my scarf! Only be quick!"
Something in his manner recalled vividly to Gordon Kate's appeal to Hawke of the night before; but he unwound the scarf from the neck of the wounded man. The latter could not repress a convulsive shiver as he felt the touch of his fingers.
"I am sorry," Gordon apologised. "I know it must be unpleasant."
The scarf was of thick white wool, and he twisted it round the arm just above the cut and tied it firmly; but a dark stain came through it at once and widened over the folds.
"The ice-axe," gasped Hawke. "It is by your side."
Gordon took it from where it was resting on the ground, and inserting the pick into the wool, used it as a tourniquet, and strained the bandage tight.