A cold wind stung their faces, the rocks above rose higher, but there was, at least, no snow beneath their feet, and they moved on yard by yard, scarcely daring to breathe at times, until at length Kinnaird cried out in a voice that was hoarse with exultation: "We are over the worst!" Then Weston gasped with sincere relief, for it was clear that they had crept around the perilous corner.

The wall of rock receded, and the slope became less steep in front of them.

It was, however, strewn with massy fragments and debris carried down by the snow, and the sun that flung a warm light upon it hung just clear of the peaks across the valley.

There was no doubt that his companions were worn out, and he fancied that the girls could scarcely drag themselves along, but they had now no provisions and it was clearly advisable to get down, at least as far as the timber, where one could make a fire, before darkness fell; and they pushed on.

Arabella Kinnaird, scrambling over a pile of ragged stones, came down heavily.