Then he relaxed back a little, and let the weapon dangle from his fingers. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. The fellow Kimble, to whom Gerald was indebted, was gaping. An old man with a bent back who limped in, slow and stiff, leaning heavily on a cane.
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