The sun had lifted itself away from the scene. The pictures had gone. Past Ben's crouching figure they could see, if they stared hard enough into the shiny rock, the faintest outlines of what had been so strong and alive a short time before. Easy to see how people could walk past that rock face and see nothing — nothing unless they were lucky enough to catch just that right moment when the sun fell at a certain angle.

Ben straightened himself, his back still to them: he was taking his time turning to face them. He had been betrayed so dreadfully by these three who called themselves his friends — so he must feel; and they were afraid of what they would see. But he didn't turn, seemed to hang there by the rock face, one fist resting on it. Then he did turn himself about, with an effort: they could see it was hard for him. He seemed smaller than he had been, a poor beast. His eyes did not accuse them: he was not looking at them.

Teresa dared to go to him and put her arm about him, but he did not feel it, or know she was there. He stumbled along beside her on the long walk back to the hut. On the path that had the precipice below it he did stop a moment and look down, but went on at a touch from Teresa. In the hut they put more fuel on the little fire and made tea arid offered him some. He did not see them. Then — and it was so sudden they at first could not move — he left them and went bounding back along the path they had just come from. A silence. Then Teresa understood, and was about to run after him, but Alfredo put his arm around her and said, 'Teresa, leave him.'

They heard a cry, and a slide of small stones, and silence.

They slowly got up, slowly followed him. They made their way to where the precipice fell away from the path. There was Ben, far below, a pile of coloured clothing. His yellow hair was like a tuft of mountain grass.

The three teetered there on the edge, peering over, their arms stretched out to hold on to each other, for balance. A gust of wind blew from an edge of blue air where the path turned a corner, just ahead, strong enough to make them move back on this path which was not much more than a ledge over space, to stand with their backs to the rock. Now they could not see Ben, only the other side of the valley, rising up into cliffs and crags.

Alfredo said, 'When we get back to the telephone at the hotel, we can ring Professor Gaumlach and tell him what has happened.'

'I shall ring,' said Jose. 'He won't know who I am. I won't mention you or Teresa.'

'He will be angry with you,' said Alfredo. 'You can tell him that even an animal has the right to commit suicide.'

'It will take them a day or two to get around into the valley — they will need mules,' said Jose.

Alfredo said, 'The condors won't leave much of him.'

And there was a condor. It appeared from over the mountain behind them, and floated down past them, and circled over the valley. They could see the sun shining on its back.

'Never mind,' said Jose. 'They can know about a whole person from just a little bit of finger bone.'

'They will want to know what he was doing up here,' said Alfredo.

'Are you going to show them the rock pictures?' asked Jose. 'Let them find the pictures for themselves,' said Alfredo. Another condor was dropping from the mountain peaks across the valley.

Teresa had not contributed to this discussion. Jose said, 'Teresa, you are silly to cry. It's a good thing, what Ben did.'

Alfredo said, 'But Teresa knows that.'

'Yes,' said Teresa. And added, 'And I know we are pleased that he is dead and we don't have to think about him.'