If you escape--you need never do another stroke of work as long as you live." Trent stood upright, wiped the dank sweat from his forehead and gazed around him fiercely, and upwards at that lurid little patch of blue sky.
"If I escape!" he muttered.

"I'll get out of this if I die walking.

I'm sorry you're done, Monty," he continued slowly.

"Say the word and I'll have one more spell at carrying you! You're not a heavy weight and I'm rested now!" But Monty, in whose veins was the chill of death and who sought only for rest, shook his head.
"It shakes me too much," he said, "and it's only a waste of strength.
You get on, Trent, and don't you bother about me.

You've done your duty by your partner and a bit more.