When they missed the road and got up on the glacier by mistake, Raymond had thought he was not equal to much more, but with pure nerve he kept to the work, and for a long time said nothing more about being tired. At first the fear of another avalanche had been an incentive to keep forging ahead. As they ascended, however, and neared the summit of the range, they gradually rose level with, or above, the overhanging cliffs from which snow-slides were likely to start, and were relieved of that fear. But there may be a limit to the endurance of even a gritty boy, and Raymond began to feel that he was really at the end of his rope. The day had been extremely arduous, and it had been preceded by many days of hard work, with barely a sufficiency of food. The boy finally stopped, standing in the deep snow, and gazed up at the summit above them. The snow-squalls had ceased and the clouds had cleared away. The sun, which was out of sight behind the western peaks, still shone on the crests, and turned all their white covering to a glorious rosy pink. That beauty was lost on Raymond, however, for all he could think of was the distance that remained. It was not far,--indeed, it seemed very near,--but every step was through deep snow, and all vestige of a trail had disappeared. “Sid!” called Raymond to his brother, who was a few steps ahead, and his voice hardly carried the short distance. Sidney stopped and looked back. “I don’t believe I can go any farther, Sid.” “But we can’t stop here, Ray.” “I know; I suppose if I stop it will be for good. You go on without me, Sid. You can make it alone, and there is no use in both of us failing.” Sidney returned to his brother, and was alarmed by the pallor of the boy’s face. “Give me your blankets, Ray,” he said; “I ought to have taken them before.” “You can’t carry mine and your own too.” “Oh, yes, I can, easily.” And Sidney detached the blanket roll from the shoulder of the unresisting boy. “Now, see, Ray, it’s only a little bit farther; don’t you think you can get up without anything to carry?” “I’ll try; maybe I can.” Raymond took one or two struggling, uncertain steps in the deep snow and stopped again. “Here, Ray,” said Sidney, when he saw how exhausted his brother was; “take hold of the end of this blanket roll and pull just as hard as you want to. That will help you along.” Raymond did as directed, taking hold of the roll which was slung over Sidney’s shoulder, and again they started. They took two or three steps when Sidney felt the weight released from his shoulder. He looked back and saw that Raymond had sunk down in the snow. “Ray!” he said, but there was no response. He stooped and raised Raymond’s head. The boy’s face was very white and his eyes were closed. “Ray! Ray!” called Sidney beseechingly, but Raymond did not hear, and when Sidney released his head it dropped forward on his chest.