Then they stopped in dismay, and Blake went down on his knees, scraping with ragged mittens in the snow.
"I can't see which way it runs, but it certainly doesn't end here," he said.

"Go ahead and look for it, Benson; but don't get out of call!" Benson moved forward, and when he faded into the cloud of driving flakes those he left behind were conscious of a keen uneasiness.

They could see only a few yards; it was blowing fresh and the wind might carry their voices away, and if this happened the chances were against their comrade's being able to rejoin them.

After a few minutes Blake shouted, and the answer was reassuring.

They waited a little longer, and then when they cried out a hail came back very faintly: "Nothing yet!" "Keep closer!" Blake shouted; but it seemed that Benson did not hear him, for there was no reply.
"Hadn't you better go after him ?" Harding suggested.
"No!" Blake snapped.