Jimmy saw a pale star, and veins of snow streaking high shadowy rocks. He thought when he looked up not long before, the sun was on the mountain, but perhaps it was not. His brain was dull and he was numbed by cold. He shivered and shut his eyes, but after a few minutes he smelt cigar-smoke and looked about again. Although it was getting dark, he saw somebody sitting in the gloom at the bottom of the rocks.
"Where's Deering?" he asked. "Did I let him go?"
"You did not. Take a drink," the other replied and pushed a flask into Jimmy's hand.
Jimmy drank, gasped, and tried to get up, but found he could not move.
"Where is Deering?" he insisted.
"I expect he's crossing the glacier with the guides from the hotel," said the man, who took the flask from him, and Jimmy knew Stannard's voice.
"Then where am I?"
"You are in the gully. You held on to Deering until he got support for his foot. Then you slipped off the big stone. Something like that, anyhow. Do you feel pain at any particular spot?"
"I don't know if one spot hurts worse than another. All hurt; I doubt if I can get up."
"You mustn't try," said Stannard firmly. "When Deering arrives we'll help you up."