Next second I heard a soft hissing sound overhead, then a loud rumbling which increased to thunder. I instinctively seized Mrs. Audley. The next moment we were struck violently in the back, covered by a blanket of snow, and hurled down the mountain side amid an avalanche of snow, stones and rocks.
When, very slowly, I awakened to a sense of things about me, I found I had bitten my tongue badly and felt a severe pain at the back of my skull where, I suppose, I must have struck a rock. Mrs. Audley was still in my arms and unconscious, her bleeding face white as marble. Both of us were deeply imbedded in the snow, but our heads fortunately lay clear, otherwise we must certainly have been suffocated. The avalanche had swept us down, but as I had instinctively grasped my dainty companion, we had been held together.
Blood was flowing freely from the wound in my head, and Mrs. Audley’s face was cut and bleeding. As quickly as possible I disengaged myself from the heavy weight of snow upon me, and strove to rouse her from her swoon. The thought that she might be dead drove me well-nigh frantic.
I seized her by the shoulders and shook her violently. Then with trembling fingers I tore open her jacket, jersey and silk blouse, and bent my head to listen. Her heart was beating faintly.
My vacuum flask of hot tea was battered and broken but in an inside pocket I had, providentially, a small flask of brandy which was undamaged. I forced a few drops of the spirit between her pallid lips.
Her lips moved. A moment later she opened her big grey eyes and asked me in a whisper:
“Where am I?”
“You are safe,” I assured her, holding her in my arms. “Don’t worry. We’ll be out of this very soon.”
“But where are we?” she asked gazing around upon the snowy surroundings. “Where is John? Tell me!”
I told her briefly what had happened.