After the lunch had been devoured, Ralph turned his attention to the injured ankle. It was a bad wrench but he managed to fix a makeshift bandage that held it firm. After that was done he picked up a blazing piece of firewood and struck out into the night. In a few minutes he was back with a forked branch which he informed Mitchell could be used as a crutch.
Ralph picked up the sack of registered mail and with his assistance Mitchell managed to negotiate the steep slope of the creek valley. When they were in the woods Ralph went back and extinguished the fire.
The reporter returned and helped support the mail flyer as they started the slow and painful journey to the plane which was to be their means of escape.
Mitchell did the best he could but his ankle throbbed incessantly and they were forced to rest every few hundred feet.
After an hour and a half of the gruelling work, Mitchell was exhausted and Ralph decided that it would be best for them to wait until morning before continuing their journey.
He selected a clearing which had only one large tree in the center. Brushing away the snow he cut enough pine branches for a makeshift bed and then constructed a barrier of branches to shield them from the wind.
A fire was started and Mitchell, weak and chilled from his exertions, laid down beside it. Ralph massaged the swollen ankle until the pain had eased and the mail flyer fell asleep.
The reporter busied himself securing enough firewood to last until morning and after that task was completed laid down beside Mitchell in the fragrant pine bows. He dropped into a deep sleep of exhaustion and had slept for some time when he awoke with a terrifying fear gripping his heart.
Blazing eyes were staring at him from the edge of the forest; eyes that burned their way into his mind. A whole ring of them were closing in, creeping ever nearer the fire.
For a moment the terror of the situation held Ralph motionless. Then he leaped into action.