“That also is incontrovertible,” Messner agreed. “When three bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time, one must get out.”
“And you’re that one,” Womble announced grimly. “It’s a ten-mile pull to the next camp, but you can make it all right.”
“And that’s the first flaw in your reasoning,” the other objected. “Why, necessarily, should I be the one to get out? I found this cabin first.”
“But Tess can’t get out,” Womble explained. “Her lungs are already slightly chilled.”
“I agree with you. She can’t venture ten miles of frost. By all means she must remain.”
“Then it is as I said,” Womble announced with finality.
Messner cleared his throat. “Your lungs are all right, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but what of it?”
Again the other cleared his throat and spoke with painstaking and judicial slowness. “Why, I may say, nothing of it, except, ah, according to your own reasoning, there is nothing to prevent your getting out, hitting the frost, so to speak, for a matter of ten miles. You can make it all right.”
Womble looked with quick suspicion at Theresa and caught in her eyes a glint of pleased surprise.