The fire had vanished, but the pungent smell of burning wood came down the biting wind, and by and by trails of smoke drifted past the scattered pines.

Then as they struggled through a brake of wild-fruit canes a blaze leaped up among the the rocks and he saw an indistinct figure crouching beside a fire.

The figure got up awkwardly and a few moments later Father Lucien gave Thirlwell his hand.

The light touched his thin frost-browned face, which was marked by lines that pain had drawn.
"It's lucky you came, but, if you don't mind, we'll sit down," he said.
"If you're alone, you had better come back to our camp," Thirlwell replied.

"Where's your truck and the dogs ?" Father Lucien indicated the torn blue blanket that hung from his shoulder.