by John Masters
That was dribbling out as the wind slashed deeper. He slipped down, his feet sliding slowly away from under him. Very slowly. No danger of going over the edge, of course, just of going, lying in the snow under the ridge, and going on somewhere from there without further movement. Nothing swift or catastrophic at all.
Billy was there again, his goggle eyes in front of him.
‘What’s the time, Billy?’ he asked; but his teeth were clamped tight together and would not open at all.
‘The wind changed,’ Billy said. ‘I thought you’d be cold.’ He was rubbing snow into Peter’s face, slapping him lightly with his gloves, pushing, pulling.
‘Did you . . .?’
‘No. Only a hundred, hundred and fifty feet up. Twenty minutes.’
‘You could have done it?’
‘Perhaps. I don’t think so. Next time . . . Gendarme Ridge looked a little easier from there. Better to meet the bad stuff low down, eh? Come on, Peter ... Peter ... Peter!’
Peter’s legs began to move, very slowly, down the ridge. He had failed.
Chapter 44
They were a hundred and seventy miles away when he saw Meru for the last time. They were all standing outside the big tent when she came out of far cloud, sailing up against a dark sky early in the night, starlight on her southern precipices.
I shall not see her again, and do not want to. . . .
The End
Table of Contents
FAR, FAR THE MOUNTAIN PEAK
FOREWORD
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44