“_You_ wouldn’t get through, handicapped like that. No, let’s push on as we are. I’ll manage somehow.”
A glint of something like admiration flickered in his eyes.
“Game little devil!” he muttered. But the wind caught up the words, and Jean did not hear them. He raised his voice again, releasing the strap from his wrist as he spoke.
“You’ll do what I tell you. It’s only a matter of getting through this bit of drift, and we’ll be out of the worst of it. Put your arms round my neck.” Then, as she hesitated: “Do you hear? Put your arms round my neck--_quick!_”
The dominant ring in his voice impelled her. Obediently she clasped her arms about his neck as he stooped, and the next moment she felt herself swung upward, almost as easily as a child, and firmly held in the embrace of arms like steel.
For a few yards he made good progress, thrusting his way through the yielding snow. But the task of carrying a young woman of average height and weight is no light one, even to a strong man and without the added difficulty of plunging through snow that yields treacherously at every step, and Jean could guess the strain entailed upon him by the double burden.
“Oh, do put me down!” she urged him. “I’m sure I can walk it--really I am.”
“Look down!” he said. “Think you could travel in that?”
The snow was up to his knees, above them whenever the ground hollowed suddenly.
“But you?” she protested unhappily. “You’ll--you’ll simply kill yourself!”
“Small loss if I do! But as that would hardly help you out of your difficulties, I’ve no intention of giving up the ghost just at present.”
He started on again, pressing forward slowly and determinedly, but it was only with great difficulty and exertion that he was able to make headway. Jean, her cheek against the rough tweed of his coat, could hear the labouring beats of his heart as the depth of the snow increased.
“Not far,” he answered briefly, husbanding his breath.
A few more steps. They were both silent now. Jean’s eyes sought his face. It was ashen, and even in that bitter cold beads of sweat were running down it; he was nearing the end of his tether. She could bear it no longer. She stirred restlessly in his arms.
“Put me down,” she cried imploringly. “_Please_ put me down.”