Weston could dimly make out something that moved on in front of him, but it had no certain shape, and he stumbled heavily every now and then as the stones rolled round beneath him.

He gripped the pack-horse's bridle in a half-numbed hand, but, as he admitted afterward, he made no attempt to lead the beast.

He said he rather clung to it for company, for the others vanished now and then for minutes amidst the whirling snow.
Suddenly there was a crash and a cry behind him.

For a moment he stood half-dazed, with his hand on the bridle, while the jaded horse plunged.

Then he let it go as the freighter appeared, and together they stumbled back to where Devine was clinging to the bridle of another horse which lay close at his feet amidst a wreath of snow.