They would have to speak to each other. They could not glare from their respective posts and then fall on one another without a word like two red Indians; and suddenly in a flash the thought came to him--
"Suppose you are so bad that he declines to waste powder and shot on you."
He held his breath for a moment almost petrified with shame. Then he roused himself and ran with all his might through the reeds, and over the groaning ice to the spot where "finis" was to be written on everything. On the frozen little bay, whereby it was alone possible to reach the island, he found footprints which must have been quite freshly made, though the snow had half covered them up already.
This first sign of his friend's waiting presence made his heart rise to his throat.
He tore on, following the foot-marks up the steep incline to the clearing which was lost to sight in the ever-thickening snowstorm. For a moment anxiety at what was to come made him giddy. Death was mere child's play compared with the inevitable conversation that must precede it. He leaned against a tree to get his breath, and it seemed to him that instead of the white flakes a shower of red and blue flames were falling around him. And then he made a last great effort to shake off all cowardice, and stepped on to the open space to offer his heart as a target to his friend.
But he could see no sign of him. On all sides the white noiseless tumult, the dark interior of the temple making the one shadow in the milky lightness, but nowhere any trace of a human figure.
He walked the length of the clearing, took a rapid glance in passing at the two statues, spied into the thicket, hunted at the back of the temple, and at last he found him.
First of all his foot struck against a case of pistols like his own, and then he saw lying stretched out at the foot of the sacrificial stone the outline of a man's figure already half covered with snow. With a cry he darted to his side, raised him into an upright position in his arms, and wiped the snow off his face. It was like the face of a corpse. The eyes were shut, the lips colourless, and his skin as Leo touched it felt deathly cold against his caressing hands. Half out of his mind with a dread fear, he pressed his ear listening against the motionless chest. A slight, irregular tremour told him that there was still life in the body.
And as his fear was conquered, a great passion of all-powerful, all-healing tenderness came over him with the force of an avalanche, which swept away sin and pain, self-degradation and self-contempt and desire for death by the roots as if they had never been. Triumphantly the joy of the old full and undivided possession of his friend broke forth again at this moment. He would live for him, his only care should be to love and serve him--he would laugh so that he should learn to laugh again; lie at his feet like a faithful dog.
Yes, all this he vowed to do as he felt a new strength brace his limbs and a new hope expand his soul.