“Walters struck the rock first and was very quick with the rope; in fact, I was astonished at his coolness, because he must have got a heavy blow.  He stopped the other fellow and they lay on the rock for a few minutes.  Then Walters shouted:  ’He’s not to be trusted, and I can’t climb back alone.’

“Well, it was some moments before I could face the situation, but I told him to get down as fast as he could and send a rescue party with the other guide.  He objected, but admitted that he saw no other plan, and I felt desperately lonely as I watched them crawl down the couloir.  I don’t know that I felt much worse afterwards, although it began to snow and my hands and feet seemed to turn to ice; two of my left fingers aren’t of much use yet.  The ledge was wide enough to sit on, but slanted, and one had to be careful to keep from slipping off.  The snow stopped, but when dark came I’d given up hope of the rescue party’s arriving in time.  As a matter of fact, they were nearly too late, and I was in bed a month after they got me down; but Lucy can tell you the rest.  You see, she saved my life.”

A wave of color flushed Lucy’s face.  “When I reached the hotel I felt uneasy, and when it got dark and Lawrence didn’t come I was alarmed.  I had kept the guide who brought me home, and sent him to find some of his friends at a ranch not far off.  They went back to look for Lawrence.”

“You went back,” said Lawrence reprovingly.

“As far as the first big crevasse; they wouldn’t let me cross.  But before this we met Walters and the other guide, who was drunk.  Walters wanted to come with us, but I wouldn’t allow him.”

“You thought he was too tired?” Foster suggested.

“No,” said Lucy quietly, “it wasn’t altogether that.”

Foster saw she would say no more about it, which seemed significant, and he let her go on.

“There is not much more to tell,” she said with a shiver.  “I was very anxious while I waited behind a hummock of ice, but at last I heard the men coming; they were carrying Lawrence, who couldn’t walk.  We got him down to the hotel—­and I think that’s all.”

“But what became of Walters?” Foster asked.

“He stayed for a few days, and we were glad when he had to leave.  He was in the way when Lawrence was ill.”

“Thank you,” said Foster gravely and was silent for a time.

He understood why his comrade called Miss Stephen Lucy, although he had not known her very long.  She had, no doubt, saved his life by hurrying off the rescue party and had afterwards taken care of him when he was ill.  He thought Lawrence lucky, but was not justified in congratulating him yet, and had something else to think about.  Lucy suspected Walters, though Lawrence did not, and Foster imagined that she had some ground for doing so.  She had an object for making Lawrence tell his story with full particulars, because it must have been painful to recall the matter.