"When you dragged me, my child?"
Grace smiled faintly.
"You don't know how strong I am," she said, and then proved it by fainting dead away.
Philip started to his feet and ran to her side. Then he felt for the precious flask that he had preserved so sacredly through all their hardships, but it was gone. He glanced around him; it was lying on the snow, empty! For the first time in their weary pilgrimage Philip uttered a groan. At the sound Grace opened her sweet eyes. She saw her lover with the empty flask in his hand, and smiled faintly.
"I poured it all down your throat, dear," she said. "You looked so faint—I thought you were dying—forgive me!"
"But I was only stunned; and you, Grace, you"——
"Am better now," she said, as she strove to rise. But she uttered a weak little cry and fell back again.
Philip did not hear her. He was already climbing the ledge she had spoken of. When he returned his face was joyous.
"I see it, Grace; it is only a few miles away. It is still light, and we shall camp there to-night."
"I am afraid—not—dear Philip," said Grace, doubtfully.