I am sorry. Andrea was half-contrite, half-smiling. I should have told you. I thought you understood . It is the best thing to do, yes?
It is the only thing to do, Mallory said frankly: You're going to draw them off up the saddle?
There is no other way. With their skis they would overtake me in minutes if I went down into the valley. I cannot come back, of course, until it is dark. You will be here?
Some of us will. Mallory glanced across the shelter where a waking Stevens was trying to sit up, heels of his palms screwing into his exhausted eyes. We must have food and fuel, Andrea, he said softly. I am going down into the valley to-night.
Of course, of course. We must do what we can. Andrea's face was grave, his voice only a murmur. As long as we can. He is only a boy, a child almost . Perhaps it will not be long. He pulled back the curtain, looked out at the evening sky. I will be back by seven o'clock.
Seven o'clock, Mallory repeated. The sky, he could see, was darkening already, darkening with the gloom of coming snow, and the lifting wind was beginning to puff little clouds of air-spun, flossy white into the little gully. Mallory shivered and caught hold of the massive arm. For God's sake, Andrea, he urged quietly, look after yourself!
Myself? Andrea smiled gently, no mirth in his eyes, and as gently he disengaged his arm. Do not think about me. The voice was very quiet, with an utter lack of arrogance. If you must speak to God, speak to Him about these poor devils who are looking for us. The canvas dropped behind him and he was gone.
For some moments Mallory stood irresolutely at the mouth of the cave, gazing out sightlessly through the gap in the curtain. Then he wheeled abruptly, crossed the floor of the shelter and knelt in front of Stevens. The boy was propped up against Miller's anxious arm, the eyes lack-lustre and expressionless, bloodless cheeks deep-sunken in a grey and parchment face. Mallory smiled at him: he hoped the shock didn't show in his face.
Well, well, well. The sleeper awakes at last. Better late than never. He opened his waterproof cigarette case, profferred it to Stevens. How are you feeling now, Andy?
Frozen, sir. Stevens shook his head at the case and tried to grin back at Mallory, a feeble travesty of a smile that made Mallory wince.
And the leg?
I think it must be frozen, too. Stevens looked down incuriously at the sheathed whiteness of his shattered leg. Anyway, I can't feel a thing.
Frozen! Miller's sniff was a masterpiece of injured pride. Frozen, he says! Gawddanined ingratitude. It's the first-class medical care, if I do say so myself!
Stevens smiled, a fleeting, absent smile that flickered over his face and was gone. For long moments he kept staring down at his leg, then suddenly lifted his head and looked directly at Mallory.
Look, sir, there's no good kidding ourselves. The voice was soft, quite toneless. I don't want to seem ungrateful and I hate even the idea of cheap heroics, but well, I'm just a damned great millstone round your necks and
Leave you, eh? Mallory interrupted. Leave you to die of the cold or be captured by the Germans. Forget it, laddie. We can look after you and these ruddy guns at the same time.
But, sir
You insult us, Lootenant. Miller sniffed again. Our feelings are hurt. Besides, as a professional man I gotta see my case through to convalescence, and if you think I'm goin' to do that in any gawddamned dripping German dungeon, you can
Enough! Mallory held up his hand. The subject is closed. He saw the stain high up on the thin cheeks, the glad light that touched the dulled eyes, and felt the self-loathing and the shame well up inside him, shame for the gratitude of a sick man who did not know that their concern stemmed not from solicitude but from fear that he might betray them . Mallory bent forward and began to unlace his high jack-boots. He spoke without looking up.
Dusty.
Yeah?
When you're finished boasting about your medical prowess, maybe you'd care to use some of it. Come and have a look at these feet of mine, will you? I'm afraid the sentry's boots haven't done them a great deal of good.
Fifteen painful minutes later Miller snipped off the rough edges of the adhesive bandage that bound Mallory's right foot, straightened up stiffly and contemplated his handiwork with pride.
Beautiful, Miller, beautiful, he murmured complacently. Not even in John Hopkins in the city of Baltimore He broke off suddenly, frowned down at the thickly bandaged feet and coughed apologetically. A small point has just occurred to me, boss.
I thought it might eventually, Mallory said grimly. Just how do you propose to get my feet into these damned boots again? He shivered involuntarily as he pulled on a pair of thick woollen socks, matted and sodden with melted snow, picked up the German sentry's boots, held them at arm's length and examined them in disgust. Sevens, at the most and a darned small sevens at that!
Nines, Stevens said laconically. He handed over his own jack-boots, one of them slit neatly down the side where Andrea had cut it open. You can fix that tear easily enough, and they're no damned good to me now. No arguments, sir, please. He began to laugh softly, broke off in a sharply indrawn hiss of pain as the movement jarred the broken bones, took a couple of deep, quivering breaths, then smiled whitely. My first and probably my last contribution to the expedition. What sort of medal do you reckon they'll give me for that, sir?
Mallory took the boots, looked at Stevens a long moment in silence, then turned as the tarpaulin was pushed aside. Brown stumbled in, lowered the transmitter and telescopic aerial to the floor of the cave and pulled out a tin of cigarettes. They slipped from his frozen fingers, fell into the icy mud at his feet, became brown and sodden on the instant. He swore, briefly, and without- enthusiasm, beat his numbed hands across his chest, gave it up and. sat down heavily on a convenient boulder. He looked tired and cold and thoroughly miserable.
Mallory lit a cigarette and passed it across to him.
How did it go, Casey? Manage to raise them at all?
They managed to raise me more or less. Reception was lousy. Brown drew the grateful tobacco smoke deep down into his lungs. And I couldn't get through at all. Must be that damned great hill to the south there.
Probably, Mallory nodded. And what news from our friends in Cairo. Exhorting us to greater efforts? Telling us to get on with the job?
No news at all. Too damn' worried about the silence at this end. Said that from now on they were going to come through every four hours, acknowledgment or no. Repeated that about ten times, then signed off.
That'll be a great help, Miller said acidly. Nice to know they're on our side. Nothin' like moral support. He jerked his thumb towards the mouth of the cave. Reckon them bloodhounds would be scared to death if they knew . Did you take a gander at them before you came in?
I didn't have to, Brown said morosely. I could hear them sounded like the officer in charge shouting directions. Mechanically, almost, he picked up his automatic rifle, eased the clip in the magazine. Must be less than a mile away now.
The search party, more closely bunched by this time, was less than a mile, was barely half a mile distant from the cave when the Oberleutnant in charge saw that the right wing of his line, on the steeper slopes to the south, was lagging behind once more. Impatiently he lifted his whistle to his mouth for the three sharp, peremptory blasts that would bring his weary men stumbling into line again. Twice the whistle shrilled out its imperative urgency, the piercing notes echoing flatly along the snowbound slopes and dying away in the valley below: but the third wheep died at birth, caught up again and tailed off in a wailing, eldritch diminuendo that merged with dreadful harmony into a long, bubbling scream of agony. For two or three seconds the Oberleutnant stood motionless in his tracks, his face shocked and contorted: then he jack-knifed violently forward and pitched down into the crusted snow. The burly sergeant beside him stared down at the fallen officer, looked up in sudden horrified understanding, opened his mouth to shout, sighed and toppled wearily over the body at his feet, the evil, whip-lash crack of the Mauser in his ears as he died. -