HERLIHY COULDN'T SEE WHERE the rock had come from, and he assumed it had broken loose naturally. In the suspended silence that followed Absolon's death, he fought a surge of panic over the possibility that more was on the way. "I was a hundred percent sure the next rock to come down was going to hit me," he says. "I tried to think like Pete."

Herlihy wrestled with Absolon's body to retrieve the gear he'd need to get down. Blood spilled all over him, on the rope, and on the haul bag. He considered bringing the body along but decided the effort would slow him down and might get him killed. Even without the extra weight, it took him an hour to rappel to the ledge. Once there, he tied the ropes together and fixed them for the final rap to the base. Then he ran—and stumbled—down the scree field in his climbing shoes.

Herlihy retrieved his dogs and dunked his head in the lake, trying to wash off the blood and spitting to get rid of the pungent, metallic taste in his mouth. He looked around in the twilight, not sure what to do. He was startled to see four young men running toward him. The first one was crying.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Aaron Rodolph said. He was panting after the long run down from the rim.

"What happened?" Herlihy asked.

A pale, lean young man, more subdued than the first, approached him. "I threw a rock," he said.

Herlihy stared at him. "Did it hit another rock or something?"

"No," Luke Rodolph said. "That was the rock."

Herlihy took a moment to digest this. It wasn't a loose rock that had killed his friend. This kid had thrown the rock. Herlihy didn't know what to say. What came out of his mouth next amazed the Rodolph brothers, who were half expecting him to attack them. He looked at Luke and said, "I forgive you."

Wordlessly, the four men gathered around Herlihy. Aaron put his arm around him and asked if it would be all right if they prayed. Herlihy nodded, and Aaron began murmuring softly in the dusk.