"Starvation rations," commented Ranworth. "Now, Leslie, start her up; we've no time to lose."
Under the action of the decapod wheels, since the runners were no longer of any use in the soft snow, the Bird of Freedom resumed her slow crawl, five miles an hour being the maximum speed under such adverse conditions.
Meanwhile Guy, following O'Donovan's example, had divested his patient of most of his clothing, and was rubbing his chest and forehead with snow. Both men were nearly worn to skeletons. Their ribs stood out sharply under their skin, which was almost black with grime, soot, and oil.
Presently the tall man, who had never actually lost consciousness, feebly made signs that he wanted food.
O'Donovan had already opened a tin of soup and had put the contents to simmer over a spirit stove. A few spoonfuls revived the man considerably.
"Where did you leave the rest of the Ranworth Expedition?" asked Guy.
The man looked at him wonderingly, then shook his head.
Guy repeated the question, receiving in reply some words which he could not understand.
"It's my opinion, Master Guy," said O'Donovan, "that this chap's something he ought not to be."
"What do you mean?" asked the lad.