"Well, rub your hands with it, dear—well. Then they won't get frost-bitten."
"You—er—you don't mind my picking it up, then? I mean, my left foot is already gangrenous."
"Well, rub that, too," called Daphne.
"Thanks," said Berry grimly. "I think I'd rather wait for the dogs. I expect there are some at Roncevaux. In the pictures they used to have a barrel of whisky round their necks. The great thing was to be found by about five dogs. Then you got five barrels. By the time the monks arrived, you were quite sorry to see them."
"Will you go and fill up the radiator?" said I, unlocking the tool-box….
The fitting of the new belt was a blasphemous business. My fingers were cold and clumsy, and everything I touched was red-hot. However, at last it was done.
As I was looking over the engine—
"We'd better pull up a bit," said Berry. "I've used all the snow round here. Just a few feet, you know. That drift over there'll last me a long time."
"What d'you mean?" said I. "Isn't it full yet?"
"Well, I thought it was just now, but it seems to go down. I've put in about a hundredweight to date."