Tim was bending over him, worried and anxious. Nellon began to understand.
Big Tim had recovered first from the plunge. He had propped Nellon up, then turned the valve which increased the flow of oxygen inside his suit. They were alive. Nellon felt a dull wonder at it.
"Brad—all right?" It was Big Tim, his voice strained and hoarse.
Nellon nodded mechanically.
"All right."
"What happened, Brad?"
Nellon looked away. He looked up the gorge, at the tip of Tower Point. He licked his lips.
"I—I don't know. Didn't feel well—slipped on a patch of ice."
Big Tim shook his head.
"I told you to stay up there, didn't I? I knew you were in no condition to make the descent, but you were just stubborn enough to do so. It's lucky we didn't get our necks broken." He looked down and across to where, directly under the falls, the ice fangs jutted, cruel and gleaming.
NELLON was fully recovered now.
He followed the direction of Austin's gaze, and though his eyes saw the same thing, his mind pictured it in a different way.
Those ice teeth should have meant Big Tim's death. He, Nellon, had failed, had narrowly escaped losing his own life because of his blunder. Intent upon the shove which was to have sent Tim Austin hurtling to his death, he had forgotten the snow-concealed ice in the trail, as lethal with hidden treachery as a patch of quick-sand.
But he was still alive. They hadn't, as yet, even reached Ryska's hut, and Nellon knew another chance would present itself. He considered this with a curious mixture of impatience and reluctance.
"If it wasn't for Big Tim—" Nellon was hearing Laura say the words again, and once again the realms of unutterable bliss he read into them strengthened his resolve. One more chance—and this time he would not fail or waver.
"Brad—look!"
Vibrant with surprise and urgency, the words ripped aside the veil of Nellon's thoughts. His head jerked up.
Big Tim was on his feet. He was pointing up at the steep bank of the gorge down which they had tumbled.
Most of the disturbed snow had settled and the wind had carried away the rest. Nellon could see quite clearly.
There up on the bank, a small snow slide had taken place. And now, against the unbroken monotony of white, something gelamed in vivid contrast.
Nellon squinted. Gradually he began to make out details. The strange surface revealed by the slide seemed to have the mellow hue of bronze, but Nellon could not be sure, since it was queerly dappled and flecked with tones of gold and red. He thought it must be from the strain on his eyes, and closed them momentarily. But when he looked again the colors were as weird as he had last seen them. This time, however, he made out a detail which he had missed previously. The surface seemed to be crossed by a black line or stripe.
"Now what in the world can that be?" Tim Austin's voice was wondering, vaguely troubled. "It's like no sample of rock or soil we've taken. Metal—that's what it is!" he exclaimed of a sudden. "It's an exposed vein of some metal. Come on, Brad, let's have a look at it."
Nellon got to his feet, his eyes fixed upon that uncanny patch of something which stood out against the surrounding whiteness like a smear of blood.
Big Tim was already started up the
