This time there was no reply however, and Perry muttered impatiently and found a more comfortable position.

When some five minutes more had passed he got to his feet and yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Get a move on, Han! The milk's getting sour and I'm getting cold!" he shouted.

An answering cry came from closer by, but what it was that Han said Perry couldn't make out.

He turned his coat collar up, plunged hands in pockets and viewed the grey mist scowlingly.