Bower, who owned certain strong qualities, swallowed something, took three strides downward, and said calmly: “I was waiting to give Stampa a hand. He is lame, you know.”
Helen, of course, heard all that passed. She had long since abandoned the effort to disentangle the skein of that day’s events. Everybody was talking and acting unnaturally. Perhaps the ravel of things would clear itself when they regained the commonplace world of the hotel. In any case, she wished the men would hurry, for it was unutterably cold in the crevasse.
At last, then, there was a movement ahead.
Barth began to mount. Muttering an instruction to Karl that he was to give the girl a friendly pull, he cut smaller steps more widely apart and at a steeper gradient. Soon they were on the floor of the ice and hurrying to the next bridge. Not a word was spoken by anyone. The fury of the gale and the ever gathering snow made it imperative that not a moment should be wasted. The lightning was decreasing perceptibly, while the occasional peals of thunder were scarcely audible above the soughing of the wind. A tremendous crash on the right announced the fall of another avalanche; but it did not affect the next broad crevasse. The bridge they had used a few hours earlier stood firm. Indeed, it was new welded by regelation since the sun’s rays had disappeared.
The leader kept a perfect line, never deviating from the right track. Helen, who had completely lost her bearings, thought they had a long way farther to go, when she saw Barth stop and begin to unfasten the rope. Then a thrust with the butt of her pickel told her that she was standing on rock. When she cleared her eyes of the flying snow, she saw a well defined curving ribbon amid the white chaos. It was the path, covered six inches deep. The violent exertions of nearly three hours since she left the hut had induced a pleasant sense of languor. Did she dare to suggest it, she would have liked to sit down and rest for awhile.
Bower, who had substituted reasoned thought for his madness, addressed Spencer with easy complacence while Barth was unroping them. “Why did you believe that I was doing a risky thing in stopping to assist Stampa?” he asked.
“I guess you know best,” was the uncompromising answer.
“Yes, I think I do. Of course, I could not argue the matter then, but I fancy my climbing experience is far greater than yours, Mr. Spencer.”
His sheer impudence was admirable. He even smiled in the superior way of an expert lecturing a novice. But Spencer did not smile.
“Do you really want to hear my views on your conduct?” he said.