“We ought to have ice axes,” Mills said. “The snow’s getting too thin. Back’s the word.”
Joe looked around at the rest of the party, and saw that Lucy and Alice had turned deadly pale, and even Bob was looking sober.
“Are you sure you aren’t hurt, Joe?” Lucy asked.
“I’ll get dinner, O.K.,” Joe answered.
Meanwhile Mills had approached the hole where Joe went under, and called the rest to come and look, one by one, while he and Dick braced the rope.
Joe looked, too. His fall had collapsed a snow bridge over a crevasse, and through the hole, which was six feet wide or more, they could see down through a layer of snow into what looked like a bottomless slit between walls of dirty green ice. A cold, damp, chilling breath came up from the hole, and far below they could hear water running.
“Now you get the big idea, Bob, eh?” said Mills. “See why we had the rope?”
“Yes, and I bet old cookie’s glad it was a strong one,” Bob replied. “Say, I wish it had been me’d been ahead!”
“Oh, do you?” the Ranger laughed. “Want to be lowered down?”
“Oh, no—Mr. Mills!” Alice cried.