He shouted when he gained the top of the
ridge. Up through the white blur of snow on the other side there came
to him faintly a shout; yet, in spite of its faintness, Jan knew that
it was very near.
"Something has happened to Ledoq," he told himself, "but he surely has
food, and we can live it out until the storm is over."
It was easier going down the ridge, and he went quickly in the
direction from which the voice had come, until a mass of huge boulders
loomed up before him. There was a faint odor of smoke in the air, and
he followed it in among the rocks, where it grew stronger.
"Ho, Ledoq!" he shouted.
A voice replied a dozen yards away. Slowly, as he advanced, he made
out the dim shadow of life in the white gloom--a bit of smoke climbing
weakly in the storm, the black opening of a brush shelter--and then,
between the opening and the spiral of smoke, a living thing that came
creeping toward him on all fours, like an animal.
He plunged toward it, and the shadow staggered upward, and would have
fallen had it not been for the support of the deep snow. Another step,
and a sharp cry fell from Jan's lips. It was not Ledoq, but Dixon, who
stood there with white, starved face and staring eyes in the snow
gloom!
"My God, I am starving--and dying for a drink of water!" gasped the
Englishman chokingly, thrusting out his arms.
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