“Are you able to carry one of those girls?” he shouted to Sturgess when he was once more in the midst of the external uproar.
“How far?”
“Not more than fifteen short strides. Take her in your left arm, and feel the rock face on the right. Keep close in. I’m not certain about the width of this ledge. It rises a little, but is fairly straight.”
“Go right ahead!”
Soon the two men were in the haven of shelter at the further end. Each was clasping an inanimate woman, but happily, speech no longer demanded a straining of vocal chords.
“Is this the limit of the accommodation?” inquired Sturgess, obeying his guide’s restraining hand.
“Yes.”
“Do we sit right down and hope that the sun will rise sometime?”
“Not yet.... Here! Grope this way. I am giving you a bottle of brandy. Drink some, not much, because we must hoard it. Then we’ll try and get a few drops between these girls’ teeth. After that we must rub their hands and ankles till the friction hurts. It may revive them. I don’t know. It is the only plan I can think of. When they recover, if ever, we’ll seat them side by side with their backs to the rock, you and I will squeeze close, one on each side, and I have a poncho which will cover the lot. By that means we may obtain some degree of warmth in common.”