Father Mark and Anton rushed to their skis and sped out to help the
approaching pair. Father Benjamin surrendered Jean Greb to the mighty
Anton, then knelt to undo the harness of Jean's skis. As though Jean, a
big man, weighed no more than a baby, Anton Martek cradled him in his
arms and carried him into the refectory. He laid him tenderly on a
pallet that the Clavandier and one of the Canons had placed in front of
the fire.
Franz hung fearfully in the background while the Prior himself, who was
skilled in the healing arts, knelt beside the injured man and began to
examine him. Jean had fought on while there was need for fighting. Now
that the need no longer existed, unconsciousness came.
"I fear that there is no hope for this man's companion," Father Benjamin
said in a low voice. "They were coming from the inn to the Hospice when
an avalanche rolled down upon them. By a miracle alone, this man was
thrown to the top. Not even his skis were broken, and when I discovered
him, he was trying to find his companion. I thought it best, even though
he protested, to bring him here with all possible speed."
"It was wise to do so," the Prior said quietly. "The snows have claimed
many lives. Had you let this man continue to search for his friend, his
life might have been lost, too."
"Is Jean badly hurt?" Franz asked huskily.