Urquhart spoke in a curiously level tone. It seemed to give impartiality to what he said, as if he had been discussing the troubles of a man he hardly knew.
"Back broken, I believe. Anyhow, I can't feel anything. I'm sorry you came down after me."
"My dear fellow," said James, "what do you take me for?"
Those bright, all-seeing, steady eyes were fixed upon him. They had the air of knowing everything.
"Well, you knew what I did take you for, anyhow, and so it would have been reasonable—"
"We won't talk about all that," James said. "Let me cover you up with something—and then I'll see what can be done about moving you."
Urquhart spoke indifferently about that. "I doubt if you can get down—and it's a good step to Odde. Four hours, I dare say."
"Yes, but there would be a house nearer than Odde. If I could get some bearers—we'd get you comfortable before dark."
"Oh, I'm comfortable enough now," Urquhart said. James thought that a bad sign.
He unpacked the rücksacks, got out the brandy-flask, a mackintosh, a sweater and a cape. "Now, my dear man, I'm going to hurt you, I'm afraid; but I must have you on a dry bed; and you must drink some of this liquor. Which will you have first?"