"A narrow squeak, wasn't it?" he says.
His brother scarce can answer, so nervous does he feel after the terrible shock to the system.
The men, however, are thoroughly exhausted, and so under the shelter of a rock a camp is formed once more, and supper cooked.
Coffee and condensed milk seem greatly to restore the invalid, and once more he feels drowsy.
Soon the sun sets, and it being considered not unsafe now to permit Conal to sleep, the best couch possible is made for him, and a tin flask of hot water being laid near to his heart, his skin becomes warm, and he is soon afterwards sleeping and breathing as gently and freely as a child of tender years.
There is a little darkness to-night; but a moon is shining some short distance up in the sky and casting long dark shadows from the boulders across that dazzling field of snow.
Diamond stars are in the sky.
Yes, and there seems to be a diamond in every snowflake.
Duncan will not sleep, however, till he has seen his brother's face once more and heard him breathe. "For what," he asks himself, "if his recovery be but a dream from which I shall presently awake?"
His own rugs are laid close to his brother's, and he gently removes a corner of the latter, and lets the moon-rays fall on Conal's face.