With one accord they flung themselves, tired and panting, on the sheltered level of the bivouac.  Some sticks were found, a fire was lighted, tea was once more made.  Walter Hine began to take heart; and as the flames blazed up, the six men gathered about it, crouching, kneeling, sitting, and the rocks resounded with their laughter.

“Only a little further, Wallie!” said Garratt Skinner, still true to his part.

They descended from the rocks, crossed a level field of ice and struck the rock path along the slope of the Mont de la Brenva.

“Keep on the rope,” said Garratt Skinner.  “Hine slipped at a corner as we came up”; and Chayne glanced quickly at him.  There were one or two awkward corners above the lower glacier where rough footsteps had been hewn.  On one of these Walter Hine had slipped, and Garratt Skinner had saved him—­had undoubtedly saved him.  At the very beginning of the climb, the object for which it was undertaken was almost fulfilled, and would have been fulfilled but that instinct overpowered Garratt Skinner, and since the accident was unexpected, before he had had time to think he had reached out his hand and saved the life which he intended to destroy.

Along that path Hine was carefully brought to the chalets of La Brenva.  The peasants made him as comfortable as they could.

“He will recover,” said Simond.  “Oh yes, he will recover.  Two of us will stay with him.”

“No need for that,” replied Garratt Skinner.  “Thank you very much, but that is my duty since Hine is my friend.”

“I think not,” said Chayne, standing quietly in front of Garratt Skinner.  “Walter Hine will be safe enough in Simond’s hands.  I want you to return with me to Courmayeur.  My wife is there and anxious.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes, Sylvia.”

Garratt Skinner nodded his head.

“I see,” he said, slowly.  “Yes.”

He looked round the hut.  Simond was going to watch by Hine’s side.  He was defeated utterly, and recognized it.  Then he looked at Chayne, and smiled grimly.

“On the whole, I am not sorry that you have married my daughter,” he said.  “I will come down to Courmayeur.  It will be pleasant to sleep in a bed.”

And together they walked down to Courmayeur, which they reached soon after midnight.

CHAPTER XXVI

RUNNING WATER

In two days’ time Walter Hine was sufficiently recovered to be carried down to Courmayeur.  He had been very near to death upon the Brenva ridge, certainly the second night upon which Garratt Skinner had counted would have ended his life; he was frostbitten; and for a long while the shock and the exposure left him weak.  But he gained strength with each day, and Chayne had opportunities to admire the audacity and the subtle skill with which Garratt Skinner had sought his end.  For Walter Hine was loud in his