Pressford had unroped and gone off a short distance to reconnoitre; and on his return he beckoned Maurice aside.
"She can do it," he said. "I see how it will 'go.'"
"But the verglas—"
"Only in patches. They can be avoided."
"Shall we start now?" called Doris eagerly.
"Finish the sandwiches first. We shall have no other chance for some time. I'll scramble up a bit, and have one more look. Then—en avant!"
Still free of the rope, he moved some paces away, munching chocolate, and scanning the rocks which frowned grimly above. Maurice came back to his seat by Doris.
They had the world to themselves. Pressford, always aloof and preoccupied, hardly counted.
From their very feet the snow-slope fell away. Behind rose the stern rock-rampart, calling to be climbed. But their eyes were turned to the wide sweep of mountain pastures far below, and downward thence to valleys shepherding cloudlets of morning mist.
Like birds they were perched aloft; away from common life; cut off from human habitations.