Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 118: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BEYOND THE GREAT SOUTH WALL. I rose and touched and stretched my- self wearily. How my back and shoul- deis ached, and what a sharp pang ran through my ankle as I dragged myself across the floor. I knelt beside Gerry and turned his face to the light. It was white and hol- low cheeked; his eyes were closed. I ran my hand beneath his coat and laid it above his heart. Was it still’—or was it my own anxious pulse that beat be- neath my palm? No, there was a-stirring—a fluttering, faint and scarce discernible, but the life light still burned. I placed my eyeball before his parted lips. The out draft of his breathing struck against 1t, though ever so lightly. I moved his arms. They were limp, but with no unnatural droop. Very. very gently, but perceptibly his chest rose and fell again, and something like a sigh fluttered out from between his lips. ‘Fhere was a faint flicker of an eyelid, and his fingers twitched auto- matically at the pebbles. The worst of the overpowering weight of dread slid away from me hesi- tatingly. Perhaps after all Gerry was no more than knocked out of time; not injured fatally at all. I shouted into his ear; a tiny move- ment of the eyelid answered me. I raised his head, scraping the loose sand into a pillow beneath it. I took his hand and began to rub it briskly, clap- ping it against its fellow. A faint shade of color rose into his cheek; he sighed perceptibly. Again his eyelids fluttered, half closed again, and then opened wonderingly to their widest. | He stared about him, his gaze wan- dering with a drowsy air of astonish- ment from point to point. His hand swept the floor, picking at the little stones, and his breathing grew louder and more regular. I called aloud his name, siting him on the shoulder. He jerked a look at me from his drowsy eyes, frowned, made as 1f he would turn his head, and 10g then a sudden faint consciousness seemed to return to him. “ W’as’r matter?” he whispered dis- tinctly. “Good man,” I bawled joyously. “Wake up, wake up, old chap. Are you hurt? Feel yourself,” and I dragged him to a sitting posture. “ W’as’r time?” he gurgled again. “Time! Hang the time. You're not in bed. We’re in the glacier. Get up and feel yourself.” He scrabbed weakly at the ground, caught at my sleeve, and leaned against me. He stared at his surroundings, re- garding the temple portico with des- perate astonishment. Then the ice hill, sinking down to our very feet, caught his eye. He turned to me with wild amazement in every feature. “ Tt’s a nightmare,” he declared. “No such luck,” quoth I sadly. ‘We're here right enough. The ques- tion is how to get out before we're frozen stiff. Can you stand? ” He staggered to his feet, still lurching against me, and began gingerly to press his limbs and ribs. He moaned elo- quently as his fingers roamed about his battered bones, making fearful grim- aces, “Ribs nearly bashed in,” he re- marked, “ but no other damage that I can discover, bar bruises.” ‘“‘That’s all right. Now let’s hustle round and see if there’s any sort of way out. That stream over there must go somewhere, if there’s room to follow it. I can hear it tinkling away down some sort of channel.” In the direction in which I pointed the sides of overhanging rock and gla- cier converged till they almost met, forming a low tunnel which struck fur- ther into the blackness. It was from this burrow that the sound of running water came. Gerry looked at the dark entrance with much distaste. “Ugh,” said he, “ filthy and cold it’ll be. Don’t you think ECORRIC OO© SS) EO =