The farmer gratefully lowered himself to his knees while the woman took Friday aside. The American told Samouel to keep moving. Friday would find him by the bursts from the flashlight.

"If we leave the terrorist and my grandfather here, no one will come back," Nanda said.

"I know this border region.

There will be a great deal of tension on both sides of the glacier. No one will want to make any unnecessary or provocative military moves.

Samouel will leave without him."

"We'll send a civilian helicopter back here," Friday said.

"The American embassy can arrange it quickly." "They'll be dead by then," Nanda told him.

"My grandfather is pushing himself as it is. If I leave he'll give up."

"Nanda, if you don't leave, two nations may cease to exist," Friday pointed out.

"You played a key role in this.

You have to set it right."

The young woman was silent. Friday could not see her in the blackness but he could hear her breathing. It had slowed somewhat. Nanda was thinking. She was softening.

She was going to agree.

"All right," she said.

"I'll do what you ask but only if you stay and help my grandfather."

That caught Friday by surprise.

"Why?"

"You know how to survive out here," Nanda replied. She placed her hand on the unlit torches for emphasis.

"I think I saw a valley to the west. You will be able to get him down there in the dark, find shelter, warmth, and water. Promise me you'll take care of him and I'll go ahead with Samouel."

The perspiration on the American's face was beginning to freeze. It was a strange feeling, like candle wax hardening.

The insides of his thighs were badly chafed and his lungs hurt from the cold air they had been breathing. The longer he stood here the more aware he became of how vulnerable they were. It would be easy to stand still a moment too long and die.

Friday set the two torches down and removed the glove from his right hand. He scratched the frozen sweat from his cheeks and forehead. Then he slipped his hand into his coat pocket. Nanda was Friday's trophy. He had no intention of staying behind or being dictated to.

He removed the pistol from his pocket. Nanda could not see it or know what he was going to do. If he put a bullet in the farmer's head Nanda would have no choice but to press on, even if only to bring Friday to justice. Friday, of course, would argue that Apu was distraught about holding the others back. He had tried to reach the gun to end his own life. There was a fight. It went off.

Friday hesitated. He considered the possibility that a shot might attract the attention of the Indian soldiers from the line of control.

But he realized that the many peaks and winding ice valleys would make the sound impossible to pinpoint.