When the others saw Jimmy was asleep they went off quietly, but at the end of the passage Deering stopped Stannard.
"Let's get a drink," he said. "For four or five hours I've hustled some and I need a pick-me-up."
Stannard gave him a keen glance. Deering had hustled. To carry Jimmy down the rocks and across the glacier, in the dark, was a strenuous undertaking, and where strength was needed the big man had nobly used his. Yet Stannard imagined the strain that had bothered him was not physical.
"Oh, well," he said, "I'll go to the bar with you. Waiting for you in the gully was not a soothing job."
"You knew I'd get back," Deering rejoined. "If I'd had to haul out the cook and bell-boys I'd have brought help."
"I didn't know how long you'd be and speed was important."
"You're a blamed cool fellow," Deering remarked. "If you had not taken control, I expect we'd have jolted Jimmy off the stretcher, and maybe have gone through the snow-bridge the guide didn't spot. Then you stayed with him, pulled him out of the way of the snow-slides, and kept him warm. I expect you saved his life."
"To some extent, perhaps that is so," Stannard agreed. "That somebody must pull Jimmy against the rock was obvious. All the same, I knew the stones wouldn't bother us after it got cold."
Deering was puzzled. Stannard's habit was not to boast, but it looked as if he were willing to admit he had saved Jimmy's life. Deering speculated about his object.
"Well," he said, "I own I was badly rattled. You see, if the kid had not held fast, I'd have gone right down the rock face and don't know where I'd have stopped. Perhaps it's strange, but I remembered I'd got five hundred dollars of his and the thing bothered me. To know I'd played a straight game didn't comfort me much."