“Crack-crack,” two bullets spat against the rock over his head.
“Hold on there, you fool!” yelled Cameron, dodging back behind the rock. “What are you shooting at? Hello there!” Still there was no reply.
Long he waited till, desperate with anxiety lest his unknown visitors should abandon him, he ran forward once more beyond the ledge of the rock, shouting, “Hello! Hello! Don't shoot! I'm coming out to you.”
At the turn of the rocky ledge he paused, concentrating his powers to catch some sound other than the dull boom and hiss of the blizzard. Suddenly at his side something moved.
“Put up your hands, quick!”
A dark shape, with arm thrust straight before it, loomed through the drift of snow.
“Oh, I say—” began Cameron.
“Quick!” said the voice, with a terrible oath, “or I drop you where you stand.”
“All right!” said Cameron, lifting up his hands with his rifle high above his head. “But hurry up! I can't stand this long. I am nearly frozen as it is.”
The man came forward, still covering him with his pistol. He ran his free hand over Cameron's person.