Of a sudden the pain leaped to intolerable heights. His battered muscles screamed an anguished protest along his nerves. Then the pain was gone, and momentarily the blackness closed in again. But something like a fresh wind sprang up, and sent the engulfing fog thinning away. Nellon's brain cleared. He opened his eyes. He looked into Big Tim's face. Big 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 gleamed in vivid contrast.