"What is the time, Heinrich?"
"Half-past eight."
"What would you have done, Otmar, if we had been benighted?"
Otmar did not hear. But as he got the wood and made the fire, and emptied the rucksacks of our provisions, he began to sing in a pleasant tenor voice. And Heinrich joined in with his full bass.
And presently, stripped of our wet clothes and wrapped in blankets, we sat down to a glorious meal of steaming tea—in an iron teapot as large as a pail—tongue, soup, potted chicken, and jam.
"That was a narrow escape from a night on the mountains," I said.
"It is a very foolish glacier," said Heinrich.
Otmar said nothing.
Five hours later Otmar woke us from our bed of hay.
"It is fine," he said. "The Wetterhorn will go."