They had climbed more than an hour, when he suddenly shot ahead into the darkest part of the woods and gave voice so loudly that they knew that they had reached the end of their search, and pushed forward anxiously.
The moonlight could not reach this spot among the trees, so densely shaded, but the lanterns showed them the old man a short distance from the path.

He was pinned to the wet earth by a limb that had fallen partly across him.

Fortunately, the storm had been unable to twist it entirely from the tree.

Only the outer end of the limb had struck him, but the tangle of leafy boughs above him was too thick to creep through.

His clothes were drenched, and on the ground beside him, beaten flat by the storm, lay the bunch of Alpine roses he had climbed so far to find.
He was conscious when the men reached him.