Slowly he reached over and untied first the feet then the hands. "Get up," he ordered.
Tom Blair arose, stretched himself stiffly.
"Take that," Ben indicated the blanket, "and go ahead straight for the river."
The bearded man obeyed. To have secured his freedom he could not have done otherwise.
For ten minutes they moved ahead, only the crunching snow breaking the stillness.
"Trot!" said Ben.
"I can't."
"Trot!" There was no misunderstanding the tone.
In single file they jogged ahead, reached the river, and descended to the level surface of its bed.
"Keep to the middle, and go straight ahead."