Still, it not infrequently happened that his severely simple procedure proved successful.
"Well," he said, "since I don't intend to wear it we'll leave it here.
I'll leave you for a minute or two while I prospect for an easier route than the one by which I came up." He flung down the jacket, and, striding away, disappeared, while Ida shivered as she glanced about her.

She could no longer see the shelter she had left, and she stood alone in the midst of a tremendous desolation of rock and snow, with the valley yawning, a vast dusky pit, beneath her feet.

It was appallingly lonely, and she was numb with cold, while, since she was sure that she could not climb back to her companions unassisted, there was only one person on whom she could rely, and that was the packer, who had insisted on her doing what he thought fit.

When he came back she had put on the jacket, but he had sense enough to make no sign of having noticed it.
"I can see our way for the next few hundred feet," he said.
The way did not prove an easy one, but they went down, with the gravel sliding beneath them, and now and then a mass of debris they had loosened rushing past.

It occurred to Ida that Weston limped somewhat awkwardly, and once or twice she fancied that she saw his face contract as they scrambled over some shelf of jutting stone; but they pushed on cautiously until they came to a precipitous descent.