Garratt Skinner emptied the Ruecksack on his knees.

“Let us see what food we have,” he said.  “We made a mistake in not bringing more.  But Pierre was so certain that we should reach Chamonix to-night.”

“We shall die to-night,” said Pierre.

“Nonsense,” said Garratt Skinner.  “We are not the first party which has been caught by the night.”

Their stock of food was certainly low.  It consisted of a little bread, a tin of sardines, a small pot of jam, some cold bacon, a bag of acid-drops, a couple of cakes of chocolate, and a few biscuits.

“We must keep some for the morning,” he said.  “Don’t fall asleep, Wallie!  You had better take off your boots and muffle your feet in the Ruecksack.  It will keep them warmer and save you from frost-bite.  You might as well squeeze the water out of your stockings too.”

Garratt Skinner waked Hine from his drowsiness and insisted that his advice should be followed.  It would be advisable that it should be known afterward in Courmayeur that he had taken every precaution to preserve his companion’s life.  He took off his own stockings and squeezed the water out, replaced them, and laced on his boots.  For to him, too, the night would bring some risk.  Then the three men ate their supper.  A very little wine was left in the gourd which Garratt Skinner had carried on his back, and he filled it up with snow and thrust it inside his shirt that it might melt the sooner.

“You have your brandy flask, Wallie, but be sparing of it.  Brandy will warm you for the moment, but it leaves you more sensitive to the cold than you were before.  That’s a known fact.  And don’t drink too much of this snow-water.  It may make you burn inside.  At least so I have been told,” he added.

Hine drank and passed the bottle to Pierre, who took it with his reiterated moan:  “What’s the use?  We shall all die to-night.  Why should a poor guide with a wife and family be tempted to ascend mountains.  I will tell you something, monsieur,” he cried suddenly across Walter Hine.  “I am not fond of the mountains.  No, I am not fond of them!” and he leaned back and fell asleep.

“Better not follow his example, Wallie.  Keep awake!  Slap your limbs!”

Above the three men the stars came out very clear and bright; the tiny lights in the chalets far below disappeared one by one; the cold became intense.  At times Garratt Skinner roused his companions, and holding each other by the arm, they rose simultaneously to their feet and stamped upon the ledge.  But every movement hurt them, and after a while Walter Hine would not.

“Leave me alone,” he said.  “To move tortures me!”

Garratt Skinner had his pipe and some tobacco.  He lit, shading the match with his coat; and then he looked at his watch.

“What time is it?  Is it near morning?” asked Hine, in a voice which was very feeble.

“A little longer to wait,” said Garratt Skinner, cheerfully.