The snow nearly blinded me, the wind took my breath away, forced me backward, and beat me to the earth again and again.

More than once it seemed as if we should have to succumb, and then there would come a momentary lull and we would make another rush and gain a little more ground.
Amid all the hurly-burly, though I cannot think consecutively (all the strength of my body and every faculty of my mind being absorbed in the struggle), I have one fixed idea--not to lose sight of Gondocori, and, except once or twice for a few seconds, I never did.

Where he goes I go, and when, after an unusually severe buffeting, he plunges into a snow-drift at the end of the ravine, I follow him without hesitation.
Side by side we fought our way through, dashing the snow aside with our hands, pushing against it with our shoulders, beating it down with our feet, and after a desperate struggle, which though it appeared endless could have lasted only a few minutes, the victory was ours; we were free.
I can hardly believe my eyes.

The sun is visible, the sky clear and blue, and below us stretches a grassy slope like a Swiss "alp." Save for the turmoil of wind behind us and our dripping garments I could believe that I had just wakened from a bad dream, so startling is the change.

The explanation is, however, sufficiently simple: the area of the _tourmente_ is circumscribed and we have got out of it, the gully merely a passage between the two mighty ramparts of rock which mark the limits of the tempest and now protect us from its fury.
"But where are the others ?" Up to that moment I had not given them a thought.