"It is hunger partly."
"Hark! That sounded like something."
Invigorated by hope they shouted again, but though several times they
did hear a distant yodel, the hope that it was in answer to
themselves soon faded, as the sound became more distant, and their
own exertions ended soon in an utter breakdown—-into a hoarse squeak
on Jock's part and a weak, hungry cry on Armine's. Jock's face was
covered with tears, as much from the strain as from despair.
"There!" he sighed, "there's our last chance gone! We are in for a
night of it."
"It can't be a very long night," Armine said, through chattering
teeth. "It's only a week to the longest day."
"Much that will matter to us," said Jock, impatiently. "We shall be
frozen long before morning."
"We must keep ourselves awake."
"You little ass," said poor Jock, in the petulant inconsistency of
his distress; "it is not come to that yet."
Armine did not answer at once. He was kneeling against the rock, and
a strange thrill came over Jock, forbidding him again to say-—"It was
not come to that," but a shoot of aching pain in his ankle presently
drew forth an exclamation.
Armine again offered to rub it for him, and the two arranged
themselves for this purpose, the curtain of damp woolliness seeming
to thicken on them.
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