“But you’ve killed him,” protested Professor Zepplin.
“Didn’t you see that he was choking to death, Professor? Don’t you think it was better to end his sufferings with a bullet rather than let him slowly strangle?”
The Professor took off his sombrero, and, with an unsteady hand, wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
73“Too bad, too bad!” he muttered. “Yes, yes. You were right, Tad. You did right. You thought more quickly and more clearly than I did. We had better cut the rope and let him go. There is nothing else to be done, I suppose.”
“There is something else to be done, sir. There is something quite important to be done.”
“What do you mean?”
“The pack. Surely we are not going to send that pack crashing to the bottom of the pass. We shall have to go all the way back for more supplies if we do that, provided we ever find a place where we can turn around.”
“That is so. Still, lad, I am afraid it is hopeless. We never shall be able to get the pack.”
“I think it can be done, but how I don’t know yet. What time is it?”
“The afternoon is well along,” answered the Professor.