"'Who said he was to be left?' retorted the doctor crossly. 'I'm going to carry him up as soon as I've finished bandaging your leg. Don't be in such a blessed hurry.'
"'Carry him! You can't do it up that slope, strong as you are, Taylor--I know you can't.'
"'Can't?' he echoed, as he stood up from his labours. 'Look at him and say can't again--if you can.'
"I looked and saw that the boy, but half conscious, yet restored to the memory of his object by the touch of the snow on which Taylor had laid him while engaged in bandaging my foot, had raised himself painfully on his hands and knees, and was struggling upwards, blindly, doggedly.
"'Damn it all,' continued the doctor fiercely, 'isn't that sight enough to haunt a man if he doesn't try? Besides, I may find that precious flower,--who knows?'
"As he spoke he stooped with the gentleness, not so much of sympathy, as of long practice in suffering, over the figure which, exhausted by its brief effort, already lay prostrate on the snow.
"'What is--the Presence--going--to do?' moaned Amra doubtfully, as he felt the strong arms close round him.
"'You and I are going to find the remission of sins together at Amar-nâth,' replied the Presence with a bitter laugh.
"The boy's head fell back on the doctor's shoulder as if accustomed to the resting-place. 'Amar-nâth!' he murmured. 'Yes! I am Amar-nâth.'
"So I sat there helpless, and watched them up the slope. Every slip, every stumble, seemed as if it were my own. I clenched my hands and set my teeth as if I too had part in the supreme effort, and when the straining figure passed out of sight I hid my face and tried not to think. It was the longest hour I ever spent before Taylor's voice holloing from the cliff above roused me to the certainty of success.