“Don’t feel like eating no more, sir,” he said huskily. “Can’t for thinking about how you got on. Don’t say nothing till you feel well enough, sir. I can see that you’re reg’lar upset. Ain’t got froze, have you—hands or feet?”
“No, no,” said Bracy slowly, speaking like one suffering from some terrible shock. “I did not feel the cold so much. There, I am coming round, my lad, and I can’t quite grasp yet that I am sitting here alive in the sunshine. I’m stunned. It is as if I were still in that horrible dream-like time of being face to face with death. Ha! how good it is to feel the sun once more!”
“Yes, sir; capital, sir,” said Gedge more cheerfully. “Quite puzzling to think its all ice and snow about us. Shines up quite warm; ’most as warm as it shines down.”
“Ha!” sighed Bracy; “it sends life into me again.”
He closed his eyes, and seemed to be drinking in the warm glow, which was increasing fast, giving colour to the magnificent view around. But after a few minutes, during which Gedge sat munching slowly and gazing anxiously in the strangely swollen and discoloured face, the eyes were reopened, to meet those of Gedge, who pretended to be looking another way.
The sun’s warmth was working wonders, and shortly after Bracy’s voice sounded stronger as he said quietly:
“It would have been hard if I had been carried back by the snow at the last, Gedge.”
“Hard, sir? Horrid.”
“It turned you sick afterwards—the narrow escape I had.”
“Dreadful, sir. I was as bad as a gal. I’m a poor sort o’ thing sometimes, sir. But don’t you talk till you feel all right, sir.”