The bread was brought. Saxe took it, and held it out to the mule, which slightly turned its head, gazed at it wistfully, but kept its hind quarters toward the would-be donor, turning as he turned, in spite of sundry coaxing words.

"Here, turn round," cried Saxe: "you can't eat with your tail."

"Don't go too close, herr," said the old Swiss; "I don't think he would, but he might kick."

"And I think it's very probable that he will," said Dale sharply; "that right hind leg is all of a quiver. Why, the brute's vicious, Melchior!" he said, in German.

"No, no—not vicious," said the old Swiss; "it's only that he's frightened and bashful: he isn't used to company, herr. Be patient with him, and he's a beast that would almost lay down his life for you."

"Looks more like laying down our lives," said Saxe, making a sudden dart round, as the mule was watching Dale, and then, as the animal turned sharply, holding out the bread.

Perhaps the wind bore the scent of the piece of loaf to the mule's nostrils, and the temptation was too great to resist. At any rate it stretched out its neck and extended its muzzle, so that head and neck were nearly in a straight line, and uttered a shrill, squealing whinny, which was answered at once by the donkey with a sonorous trumpeting bray, as the lesser animal came cantering up with tail and ears cocked.

"Ah! child of the evil one!" shouted old Andregg, "go back to your pasture;" and stooping down, he picked up a piece of freshly cut pine-wood, and threw it at the offending animal, missing him, but making him put his head down between his fore legs, and kick out his hind legs in defiance, before cantering off again.

By this time the mule was sniffing at the bread, and drawing nearer and nearer to Saxe's extended hand, consenting finally to take it and begin to eat.

"Is it not beautiful?" cried old Andregg, smiling. "Behold, you have made a friend who will serve you like a dog."

"I can't see anything very beautiful in it, Mr Dale," said Saxe, who had now advanced so far that he was permitted to pat the mule's neck; "and what does he mean by 'serve you like a dog'? Bite! He looks as if he could."

"He will be very useful to us, herr, and save us many a long weary tramp," said the guide, smiling. "I am willing and strong, but I cannot guide and carry much as well, and if you share the load with me, your climbing will be too laborious. With the mule to drive before us, we can take water, food, and blankets, beside a kettle for coffee; and sleep for one, two or three nights in the mountains, if we like. Shall we take him to-day?"

"I thought he was to be sent down the valley for our portmanteau and things," said Dale.

"Andregg can send the donkey," replied Melchior.

"Then by all means let us take the animal. I wish, though, that we had our ice-axes and rope, that I left at the chalet below."

"They will be ready for our next journey," said Melchior. And after due instructions had been given to old Andregg and his man Pierre, preparations were made for a fresh start up the mountains.

These did not take long. A kind of basket was secured firmly on the mule's back, and old Andregg, under Melchior's directions, produced a couple of worn ice-picks or axes, blankets, bottles, a kettle for coffee, and a little ready-chopped wood to supply the first start to the twigs and branches they would collect before leaving the forest.

By the time the mule was loaded with everything deemed necessary, Pierre was ready with the donkey, and the start was made together up and down the valley. At least, that was intended; but there were objections raised by the two four-footed friends, both wanting to go together; and when at last, after a volley of angry language from Andregg, the donkey was dragged by Pierre along the track, it began to bray loudly.

This was sufficient to attract the mule, which whinnied and tried to follow the donkey.

Melchior seized the bridle and checked him, just as they were ascending the first of a series of zigzags leading out of the deep valley, with the result that the donkey brayed again and had to be held by main force by Pierre's arm round his neck, for he had dragged his head out of the bridle; while Gros began to kick and back and behave so obstreperously that Dale gave him a sharp prod with the end of his alpenstock.

Misplaced prod! It was an unhappy touch, making, as it did, Gros give a tremendous plunge off the narrow mule-track, to come down on a slope so steep that he lost his footing, fell, and rolled over and over in a wonderful way, scattering bottles, wood, and tins from the basket, all of which went careering down the side of the valley with the mule, leaping, bounding and rattling and creaking in a way which drove the poor beast nearly frantic with fear, the catastrophe being in no wise bettered by the shouts of Andregg and the dismal brayings of the donkey, which seemed to be frantic in the endeavour to join his unfortunate friend.

The roll down was neither long enough nor dangerous enough to do any harm to Gros; but the state of the scattered cargo, as it was collected and carried to where the mule stood shivering, stamping and kicking at the basket as it hung down now between his legs, was deplorable, and meant a delay of half an hour before a fresh start could be made.

"You must be kind to Gros, herr," said the old Swiss reproachfully. "He always hated to be pricked by the iron point of an alpenstock. I have known him bite boys who used their alpenstocks to him."

"That's a hint for you, Saxe," said Dale merrily. "Worse disasters at sea," he cried. "Now, Melchior, are we all ready once more?"

"Yes, herr," replied the guide.

"Then which way do you propose going, after we get up out of the valley?"

"Over yonder, between those two peaks, herr," said the man, pointing.

"With the mule? Is it possible?"

"I think so, herr; and if you like we will try. I don't think there will be much snow in the pass—no more than the mule can manage. And, once there, I think we can descend into a wild valley below the snow-line—one where man very seldom treads."

"Excellent," said Dale. And they started, leaving old Andregg and his wife collecting the broken bottles and damaged articles below.

They had not ascended above half a dozen of the many zigzags of the path, when the bray of the donkey came faintly from behind, and Gros set up his ears, stopped, whinnied, and looked as if he were about to turn back; but this time kindness was tried, Melchior snatching a piece of bread from his pocket and walking on, holding it behind him.

The result was excellent. The bray of Gros's relative was forgotten, and he increased his pace, sniffing at the bread till he could succeed in taking it from the guide's hand, and, steadily journeying on, munch the sweet, fresh food.

In spite of the delay it was still early; and, feeling no trace of his last night's weariness, Saxe tramped on along the zigzag shelf in the valley side, till the edge of the steep part was reached. Melchior strode off to the right, and then to the left, so as to reach the narrow valley down which the stream came that had supplied them with water for their morning's bath.

This was a mere crack running up into the mountains, but with a little care a path was found upon the steep alp which formed one side, and when this became too precipitous, they descended into the rocky bed, and slowly made their way on till an opportunity for ascending to higher ground presented itself.

The progress made was very slow, but wonderfully interesting, from the variety of moisture-loving plants which took Dale's attention, and the brightly coloured insects, which took that of Saxe, while the mule was perfectly content to wait while a halt was called to capture insect or secure plant; the solemn-looking animal standing fetlock-deep in the water, and browsing on the herbage in the various crannies among the stones.

One of these halts was in an opening out of the narrow gorge running nearly east and west, so that it was flooded by the morning sun; and here, as the limpid water trickled and glided over the sandy bed, Dale took a shallow tin from the mule's pannier and lowered himself down to the edge of the stream.

Taking hold of a piece of rock so as to reach out, he bent down and scooped out half a panful of sand, where there was an eddy; and as the mule began to munch, and Saxe watched his leader's acts, Melchior pulled out his pipe, struck a match, and began to smoke.

"The herr is going to try for gold," he said quietly to Saxe; but Dale heard it.

"Yes. Is there much here, do you think?"

"It is too much to say, herr," replied the guide. "There may be, but I have never known any to be found on this side of the mountains."

"Is any found on the other side, then?"

"Oh yes, on the Italian slope, herr, and down in the valleys, they seek for and find gold—not much, but some."

"Got any, sir?" said Saxe.

"I don't know myself," replied Dale, who was washing the heavier gravel away, and picking out the stones he brought to the surface by a skilful motion of the pan beneath the water. "I must wash out all the sand first before I look to see if there is colour, as the American gold-finders call it."

"Is there another pan, Melchior?" said Saxe; "I want to try too."

"No, herr, there is only one."

"You wait, and let's see what I find, my lad. I expect it will be nothing. There's a nice fragment of onyx," he continued, picking out and pitching up a piece of flinty-looking rock to the lad. "I dare say there are some good agates here too, if we searched for them."

Dale spent about a quarter of an hour getting rid of every scrap of the granite; then held the pan in the bright sunshine, so that the water drained off and the rays shone full upon the bottom of the vessel.

He turned it about at different angles, shook the fine sand, and turned it over with his fingers; but ended by shaking his head.

"No luck, sir?"

"Not a speck. Never mind; I'll try again."

He dug down with the edge of the tin, scooping out a good deal of sand, so as to get a tinful from as deep down as he could.

"Gold is heavy, and would sink low if it were washed down," he said; and for the next quarter of an hour he repeated the washing process, while Melchior smoked, the mule browsed on the succulent herbage, and Saxe devoted himself to creeping farther along by the stream, and peering down into the pools in search of trout.

"That old fellow at the chalet said the mule would feed himself, Mr Dale," said the boy suddenly.

"Yes, he will not be much trouble to us that way," replied Dale, still plying the pan vigorously; when the mule suddenly reared its head, cocked its ears forward, and whinnied.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

MELCHIOR GROWS SUSPICIOUS.

"Hallo! another donkey coming," cried Saxe, and he looked up, and then at Melchior, who had thrust his pipe into his wallet and was peering up the sides of the valley.

"I don't see one," he said; "but there must be something to take the thing's attention."

The mule whinnied again.

"It is not another mule or donkey," said Melchior, peering upward. "They would have answered his challenge. It must be a man."

He began to climb up to get to a position where he could look up and down the gorge; while Dale, being more interested in the contents of his pan, went on till he had washed enough, and began now to search for specks or tiny scales of gold.

"Must have been some one Gros knew," said the guide to himself, as he still looked about sharply.

"Anything the matter, Melchior?" cried Saxe.

"No, sir, no. I was only trying to make out who was coming up this way."

"Not a speck," said Dale, rinsing his pan in the pure water.

"Will the herr try again?"

"No, not here," replied Dale. "Let's get on: I'm wasting time."

"No," said Melchior; "the herr is making his researches into the wonders of Nature. It cannot be waste of time."

"Well, no, I suppose not, my man. It is all learning. But what was the mule whinnying about!"

"I don't know," replied the guide in a peculiar tone. "It seemed to me that some one he knew was following us."

"What for?" said Dale.

"Ah! that I don't know, sir. From curiosity, perhaps."

"But there is no one who could come but old Andregg; and he would not, surely?"

"No, sir; he is too simple and honest to follow us, unless it were to make sure that we were behaving well to his mule. It must have been that. The animal heard or smelt him, and challenged."

"But you would have seen him, Melchior."

"I might, sir, but perhaps not. There are plenty of places where a man might hide who did not wish to be seen."

"I say, young man," said Dale, "have you a great love for the mysterious?"

"I do not understand you, herr."

"I mean, are you disposed to fancy things, and imagine troubles where there are none?"

"No, herr; I think I am rather dull," said the guide modestly. "Why do you ask?"

"Because that mule made a noise, and you instantly imagined that we were being followed and watched."

"Oh, that! Yes, herr. Our people are curious. Years ago we used to go on quietly tending our cows and goats in the valleys, and driving them up to the huts on the mountains when the snow melted. There were the great stocks and horns and spitzes towering up, covered with eternal snow, and we gazed at them with awe. Then you Englishmen came, and wanted to go up and up where the foot of man never before stepped; and even our most daring chamois hunters watched you all with wonder."

"Yes, I suppose so," said Dale, smiling, as he looked in the guide's frank face.

"You wanted guides to the mountains, and we showed you the way, while you taught us that we could climb too, and could be as cool and daring. We did not know it before, and we had to get over our suspicions. For we said, 'these strangers must want to find something in the mountains— something that will pay them for the risk they run in climbing up to the places where the demons of the storm dwell, and who wait to hurl down stones and dart lightning at the daring people who would venture up into their homes.'"

"And very dangerous those bad spirits are—eh, Melchior!" said Dale, smiling.

"Terribly, herr," said the guide. "And you laugh. I don't wonder. But there are plenty of our simple, uneducated people in the villages who believe all that still. I heard it all as a child, and it took a great deal of quiet thinking, as I grew up, before I could shake off all those follies, and see that there was nothing to fear high up, but the ice and wind and snow, with the dangers of the climbing. Why, fifty years ago, if a man climbed and fell, the people thought he had been thrown down by evil spirits. Many think so now in the out-of-the-way valleys."

"Then you are not superstitious, Melchior?"

"I hope not, herr," said the guide reverently; "but there are plenty of my people who are, and suspicious as well. I am only an ignorant man, but I believe in wisdom; and I have lived to see that you Englishmen find pleasure in reading the books of the great God, written with His finger on the mountains and in the valleys; to know how you collect the lowliest flowers, and can show us the wonders of their shape and how they grow. Then I know, too, how you find wonders in the great rocks, and can show me how they are made of different stone, which is always being ground down to come into the valleys to make them rich. I know all this, herr; and so I do not wonder and doubt when you ask me to show you some of the wildest places in the mountains, where you may find crystals and see glaciers and caves scarcely any of us have ventured to search. But if I told some of our people that you spend your money and your time in seeking and examining all this, they would only laugh and call me a fool. They would say, 'we know better. He has blinded you. He is seeking for gold and diamonds.' And I could not make them believe it is all in the pursuit of—what do you call that!"

"Science?"

"Yes, science; that is the word. And in their ignorance they will follow and watch us, if we do not take care to avoid them."

"You think, then, that some one has been following us?"

"Undoubtedly, sir; and if it is so, we shall have trouble."

"Pooh! They will, you mean. But I'm not going to worry myself about that. There—let's get on."

Melchior gave a quick glance backward, and Saxe followed his example, his eyes catching directly a glimpse as he thought, of a human face high up, and peering down at them from among some stones which had fallen upon a ledge.

But the glimpse was only instantaneous, and as he looked he felt that he could not be sure, and that it might be one of the blocks of lichened stones that he had taken for a face.

They went on slowly and more slowly, for the path grew so difficult that it was easy to imagine that no one had ever been along there before, and Saxe said so.

"Oh yes," said Melchior; "I have often been along here. It has been my business these many years to go everywhere and find strange wild places in the mountains. The men, too, who hunt the chamois and the bear—"

"Eh? what?" cried Saxe, plucking up his ears. "Bears! There are no bears here."

"Oh yes," said the guide, smiling. "Not many; but there are bears in the mountains. I have seen them several times, and the ibex too, more to the south, on the Italian slope."

"Shall we see them?"

"You may, herr. Perhaps we shall come across a chamois or two to-day, far up yonder in the distance."

"Let's get on, then," said Saxe eagerly. "But hallo! how are we to get the mule up that pile of rocks?"

"That!" said the guide quietly; "he will climb that better than we shall."

He was right, for the sure-footed creature breasted the obstacle of a hundred feet of piled-up blocks very coolly, picking his way patiently, and with a certainty that was surprising.

"Why, the mule is as active as a goat!" cried Dale.

"Well, not quite, herr," said Melchior. "But, as I said, you will find that he will go anywhere that we do, except upon the ice. There he loses his footing at once, and the labour is too great to cut steps for an animal like that."

The great pile of loose blocks was surmounted, and at the top Saxe stood and saw that it was evidently the remains of a slip from the mountain up to their right, which had fallen perhaps hundreds of years before, and blocked up the narrow gorge, forming a long, deep, winding lake in the mountain solitude.

"Fish? Oh yes—plenty," said the guide, "and easily caught; but they are very small. There is not food enough for them to grow big and heavy, as they do in the large lakes."

"Well," said Dale, after a few minutes' study of their surroundings, "this is wild and grand indeed. How far does the lake run up there? Of course it winds round more at the other end!"

"Yes, herr, for miles; and gets narrower, till it is like a river."

"Grand indeed; but it is like a vast stone wall all round, and as far as we can see. Must we go back again?"

"Yes," said Saxe promptly; "there's no means of getting along any farther."

The guide smiled, went a little to the left, and plunged at once into a long crack between two masses of rock, so narrow that as the mule followed without hesitation, the sides of the basket almost touched the rock.

"We can't say our guide is of no use, Saxe," cried Dale, laughing. "Come along. Well, do you like this rough climbing, or would you rather get back to the paths of the beaten track."

"I love it," cried Saxe excitedly. "It's all so new and strange. Why didn't we come here before?"

"You should say, why do not the tourists come into these wild places instead of going year after year in the same ruts, where they can have big hotels and people to wait upon them? Look, there's a view!" he continued, pointing along a narrow gorge between the mountains at a distant peak which stood up like the top of a sugar-loaf, only more white.

"I was looking at that view," said Saxe, pointing downward at the hind quarters of the mule, which was the only part visible, the descent was so steep, to where they came upon a sheltered grove of pines, whose sombre green stood out in bright contrast to the dull grey rocks.

Then onward slowly for hours—at times in the valley, where their feet crushed the beautiful tufts of ferns; then the hoofs of the mule were clattering over rounded masses of stone, ground and polished, over which the patient beast slipped and slid, but never went down. Now and then there was a glimpse of a peak here or of another turning or rift there; but for the most part they were completely shut in down between walls of rock, which echoed their voices, bursting forth into quite an answering chorus when Melchior gave forth a loud, melodious jodel.

"But doesn't any one live here?" said Saxe at last.

"No, herr!"

"No farmers or cottage people? Are there no villages?"

"No, herr. How could man live up here in these solitudes? It is bright and beautiful now, with moss and dwarf firs and ferns; but food would not grow here. Then there is no grass for the cattle; and in the winter it is all deep in snow, and the winds tear down these valleys, so that it is only in sheltered places that the pines can stand. Am I leading the herrs right? Is this the kind of scenery they wish to see?"

"Capital!" cried Saxe.

"Yes," said Dale quietly, as his eyes wandered up the wall-like sides of the gorge they were in; "but there ought to be rifts and caverns up in these narrow valleys where I could find what I seek."

"After awhile, herr, after awhile. When we get to the end of this thal we shall come upon a larger lake. We shall go along one shore of that to where it empties itself. There is much water in it, for three glaciers run down toward it. At the other end, beyond the schlucht, we shall be in the greater valley, between the mountains I pointed to this morning; and there you will find steeper places than this, wilder and stranger, where we can camp for to-night, and to-morrow you can choose."

"Very good: I leave it to you; but if we pass anything you think would be interesting, stop."

They had zigzagged about, and climbed up and up as well as descended, so that Saxe had quite lost count of the direction.

"Which way are we going now?" he said at last.

"Nearly due south."

"Then that's toward Italy?"

"Yes. As the crow flies we can't be many miles from the border."

"How rum!" said Saxe to himself. Then, aloud, "Over more mountains, I suppose?"

"Over those and many others beyond them," replied Dale; and then, as they followed each other in single file, Melchior leading and the mule close at his heels like a dog, weariness and the heat of the narrow sun-bathed gorge put an end to conversation, till Saxe noticed that the waters foaming along far down in the bottom were running in the same direction as they were going, whereas earlier in the day they met them.

"We are in another valley, going toward a different lake," said Dale, in answer to a remark; "and look: that must be it. No, no—that way to the left."

Saxe looked, and saw a gleam of silver between two nearly perpendicular walls; and half an hour afterwards they were traversing a narrow ledge running some few feet above the dark blue waters of a lake shut in apparently on all sides by similar walls of rock, which it would have been impossible to scale.

"The herr will be careful along here," said Melchior, pausing for a minute at a slightly wider part of the shelf to let the mule pass him. "Shall we have the rope!"

"What do you say, Saxe?" said Dale. "If it is no narrower than this, I think we can keep our heads."

"Oh, I can manage," said Saxe. "Besides, if one fell, it is only into the water. Is it deep, Melchior?"

"Hundreds of feet, I think," said the guide; "and it would be bad to fall in. I could soon throw you the rope, but the waters are icily cold, and might make you too helpless to swim. Still, it is better to grow accustomed to walking places like this without the rope."

"Oh yes," said Saxe, coolly enough; "I don't feel frightened."

"I hope you would speak out frankly if you were nervous," said Dale: "it might save an accident. False shame would be folly here."

"Oh, I'll speak," said Saxe, as his eyes wandered over the blue water that lay like a mirror reflecting the mountains round. "What a place it looks for fish! There are plenty here, eh, Melchior?"

"I have seen small ones leap out—that is all."

"But what's the matter with the mule? He can't get any farther."

"Oh yes; there is a good path to where the river runs out. He does not like to go on by himself. I must get by him again, and lead."

It was easier said than done, for the path was so narrow that Melchior had to press the mule close to the perpendicular rock, and hold on by the pack-saddle and then by the animal's neck, to get by. Once he did slip, his foot gliding over the edge; but by throwing himself forward he saved himself, clung to the path for a few minutes as he hung over it, his chest and arms resting thereon till he could get one knee up.

The rest was easy, and he rose once more to his feet.

"Hah!" ejaculated Saxe, "I thought you were gone, and we had no rope to throw to you."

"It was rather awkward, herr," said the guide coolly. "It is bad, too, to get wet when one is hot with walking."



CHAPTER EIGHT.

AN AWKWARD ACCIDENT.

"I sat!" cried Saxe, as the guide led on again, and the mule followed patiently enough.

"Yes, herr."

"Suppose two goats were to meet here, what would they do!"

"One would lie down and the other jump over him."

"But suppose it were two mules?"

"I don't know, herr. One of them might make the other back all the way; but mules are stubborn, and I'm afraid that one would push the other off."

"And what then?"

"He would swim for awhile, and then drown."

"Why," said Saxe, "I thought this lake was very beautiful; but you seem to be taking all the blue out of it. Ugh! why, it would be like falling into a well and trying to get out. I shall be glad to get away from this place."

"That's imagination, Saxe," said Dale; "and imagination is something all mountaineers should leave behind."

"Why?" said Saxe argumentatively.

"Don't go so near to the mule's heels: if he kicks you, nothing could save you from a fall into the lake."

"That's imagination, sir," said Saxe, laughing; "and imagination is something all mountaineers should leave behind."

Dale frowned, but laughed directly after.

"Pert, but smart, Saxe," he said. "Seriously, though, a mountain climber, who must naturally be often walking along risky places, has enough to think about without indulging in fancies of what might be if this happened or that took place. Such thoughts may unnerve him; and you may depend upon it, some of the bravest things are done by those who think the least. I remember, one day in London, seeing the men taking down one of those vast scaffolds formed, not of poles, but of square timbers bolted together; and I saw one man, about a hundred and fifty feet from the ground, standing on one of these pieces of timber, which was fastened to an upright at each end. He was looking on while another workman unscrewed one of the bolts which held it."

"How wide was it?" said Saxe, looking down at the narrow shelf of rock upon which he was walking.

"About ten inches, I suppose. There was nothing near him, for he was on the very top of the scaffolding, which swayed a little with the weight of the wood; but he seemed perfectly cool and comfortable up there, and after a few minutes he turned and walked along it to the other end, while I, who have often gone along dangerous ledges of ice, felt my hands turn wet inside."

"With fright?"

"Call it nervousness," said Dale. "No: call it fear or fright. Of course I imagined that at any moment the poor fellow might turn giddy and fall. But if that beam had been lying on the pavement, any one would have walked or run along it without hesitation, for there is no question of balancing on a piece of flat wood ten inches wide. The imagination is the danger."

"Then sailors can't have any imagination," said Saxe thoughtfully.

"It is to be hoped not, of that kind. If they ever thought of falling, they would never be able to run along the yards of a big ship as they do."

"Well, I'll try and not have any imagination," said Saxe. "I shouldn't like you to say you wished that you had not brought me, for you could not go anywhere you wanted because I was such a coward."

"I trust to you to be neither cowardly nor rash," said Dale, "and you may trust to me not to take you into more dangerous places than I can help. But it really is a matter of habit. Why, people never think of the danger, but every time they run up or downstairs they risk a severe fall; and I once knew of a sailor lad, accustomed to go aloft and climb over the bulwarks into the main chains or the rigging under the bowsprit, who would pull all the clothes off his bed of a night and make them up on the floor, because he was afraid of tumbling out of bed in the night. Hah! we are getting near the end of the lake. Why, Saxe, it does look black and deep!"

"But I don't see any place where it runs out," said Saxe. "There ought to be a river or a waterfall here, oughtn't there!"

"Wait a few minutes, and we shall see. Ah! to be sure—there it is; the sides are so close together that they hardly show, but you can see now where the ledge runs, right to that corner."

A hundred yards farther along the narrow ledge—a fault in the strata which formed that side of the lake—and all doubt of their being at the exit of the waters was at rest, for Melchior stopped short where the ledge widened into a little platform at the angle of the rock forming one of the sides of a mere crack in the titanic wall of perpendicular mountain, which in places actually overhung them, and ran up fully a thousand feet.

The opening where they stood was some twenty feet wide, and through it the waters of the lake poured with a low rushing sound, which seemed to deepen farther in to a roar.

Saxe was pressing forward to look in at the opening; but Melchior met them and pointed back over the lake, at the head of which rose a huge mountain mass, snow-clad and glistening, on either side of which glaciers could be seen running sharply down, while away on the left another winding, frozen river descended.

"Grand!" exclaimed Dale; but the next moment he turned to the opening by which they stood, the rushing waters having a weird fascination for them both.

"The schlucht," said Melchior quietly.

"I say," said Saxe: "you don't mean to say we've got to go through there?"

"Yes," said the guide calmly. "I have never taken a mule through, but I think we can manage it."

"But is it all like this?" said Saxe, looking aghast.

"Oh no, herr; it runs together a few yards farther in, and is so narrow that in one place you can stretch your arms and touch both sides at once."

"Then it is open right through?"

"Yes, herr. The mountain must have split open at some time or other, to let the water of the lake run out."

"Yes; and how far is it through?" said Dale.

"About a mile: less than half an hour."

"And this ledge goes right along?"

"Just as it has run by the side of the lake, herr. A little narrower sometimes."

"But you say the gorge—the crack—gets narrower directly."

"Oh yes—much, herr. It is never so wide as this."

"But the water: is there room for it?"

"The crack or split in the rocks must be very deep down, for all the water from the lake runs through here, and it's quite a big river on the other side."

"And what other way is there, Melchior?" asked Saxe.

"The way we came."

"No other?"

The guide shook his head.

"What do you think of it, Saxe? Will you venture?"

The lad drew a long breath, and said, through his teeth—

"Yes. I'm not going to be beaten by a mule!"

"Go on, then," said Dale quietly, "and as soon as we are through we must have a halt for a meal."

"Not as soon as we are through, herr," said Melchior, smiling; and he began to unfasten the mule's girths.

"What are you doing?" cried Saxe.

"Taking off the pannier," replied the guide. "The ledge is narrow farther in, and it would be awkward if the basket caught against the rock. It might cause him to make a false step, and it would be a bad place to fall in."

"Bad place? Horrible!" said Dale, frowning.

"But, I say, you can't leave the basket behind with all the victuals," cried Saxe.

"No, herr; as soon as the mule is through, I shall come back and fetch it."

"We two must carry it between us, slung on the alpenstocks," said Dale.

"No, herr, I will manage it all," said Melchior quietly. "I can soon fetch the basket, and it will be better. The young herr will want all his activity to get along without a load. I have been here four times before. I should have been five times; but one May the snow had melted after a great rain, and the lake was so full that the waters were feet above the pathway, and they rushed through, so that the great walls of rock shook as if they would fall in. There," he said, removing the mule's load and carrying it two or three yards back, to place it against the natural wall. "It will be quite safe there," he continued, with a smile; "nobody will come. Ah, Gros, my friend, is that cool and restful?"

The mule whinnied, arched up its back, and shook itself, swung back its head, first one side then on the other, to bite at the hot place where the basket had been, but apparently without allaying the hot irritation which troubled it.

"Ah! come along Gros," cried Melchior, twining the rope bridle about his arm; "that will soon be better. Follow pretty close, gentlemen: it is rather dark, but cool and pleasant after the hot sunshine."

"Well done, Saxe!" said Dale, with a smile; "that's brave."

"What is, sir? I did not say or do anything."

"Yes, you did, boy," whispered Dale; and the lad flushed a little. "You bit your lips and then set your teeth, and you said to yourself, 'he sha'n't see that I am afraid!' Didn't you?"

Saxe looked at him inquiringly, and took off his cap and wiped his brow, while his alpenstock rested in the hollow of his arm.

"Something like it, sir," said Saxe, rather dolefully. "I couldn't help it."

"Of course not."

"Ach! Dummkopf! What do you do?" cried the guide angrily; for just at that moment the mule uttered a loud squeal, arched its back, and leaped off the rock; came down on all fours, and then threw itself upon its flanks, in spite of a jerk at the bridle; squealed again, and threw up its legs, which fell back against the rocky wall; threw them up again, and for a moment they were perpendicular, so well was the balance kept, as the animal wriggled its spine so as to get a good rub on the rock. Then, while the two travellers realised the danger of this taking place on the narrow platform, not a dozen feet above the rushing water, and Melchior still jerked at the bridle, over went the animal's legs toward the edge, and it tried to gather them up for another roll.

It had another roll, but it was a roll off the edge, and almost before Dale and his companion could fully grasp the extent of the accident, the mule fell with a tremendous splash into the stream, jerking Melchior after it by the wrist. Then they both disappeared. But only for a few moments.

"Look! look!" yelled Saxe, as the mule's head shot up in the shadow thirty or forty feet farther in, so swift was the current. Then up came its forelegs, and it began to paw the water like a drowning dog, just as Melchior rose to the surface, but only in time to receive the hoofs of the struggling mule on his chest, and he disappeared again, while the water rolled the mule over and down out of sight.

The next moment both were swept right into the gloomy cavernous place, to what was evidently certain death.



CHAPTER NINE.

THE HORRORS OF A SCHLUCHT.

Saxe stood now paralysed with horror, and it was not until Dale had shaken him twice that his fixed, wild manner began to pass off.

"Stop here," cried Dale: "you are too much unnerved to come."

"Where—where are you going?" cried the lad; and before an answer could be given, he cried: "Yes; yes, go on: I'm ready."

"I tell you that you are too much unnerved to venture!" cried Dale angrily. "Am I to lose you both?"

He turned and hurried out of sight; but he had not gone fifty yards along the narrow ledge into the gloomy crack before he heard a hoarse sound, and turning sharply back, there was Saxe close behind.

"Don't send me back," cried the lad: "I can't stand here doing nothing. I must come and help."

"Come, then!" shouted Dale, his voice sounding smothered and weak in the echoing rush of the waters, which glided in at the funnel-like opening smooth and glassy, now leaped forward and roared as they careered madly along, leaping up and licking at the rugged but smoothly polished walls, charging into cracks and crevices, and falling back broken up into foam, and ever forced onward at a tremendous rate by the mass of water behind.

The place itself would in bright sunshine have made the stoutest-hearted pause and draw breath before adventuring its passage; but seen in the weird subdued light which came down filtered through the trees which overhung the chasm a thousand feet above, it seemed terrible. For only at intervals could a glimpse of the sky be seen, while as they penetrated farther, the walls, which almost exactly matched in curve, angle and depression, came nearer together, and the place darkened.

"Take care—take care!" Dale cried from time to time, as he found portions of the ledge narrower and more difficult; but Saxe did not speak, only crept on, with his left hand grasping every inequality of the rock, and, like his leader, glancing down into the mad race of foaming water, in the hope of catching sight of Melchior's upturned face and outstretched hands.

It never occurred to him that they could render no help, even if they did catch sight of their unfortunate companion; for they were never less than twenty feet above the narrow hissing and roaring stream, and there was not a spot where a rock could be grasped: everything was worn too smooth by the constant passage of the water, which doubtless carried with it stones from the lake as well as those ever loosened by frost and crumbling down from above, to aid in grinding the walls quite smooth.

But there was the possibility of the unfortunate man being thrown into one of the vast pot-holes or cauldrons formed cavern-like in bends of the chasm, where as it rushed along past the zigzag of the broken rock the water glanced from one side, and shot almost at right angles across to the other, to whirl round and round, ever enlarging a great well-like hole, the centre of which looked like a funnel-like whirlpool, with the water screwing its way apparently into the bowels of the earth, and down whose watery throat great balls of foam were constantly being sucked.

From time to time, as Dale rested for a few moments to peer into one of these, he raised his eyes to look back hopelessly at Saxe, who could only shake his head in his utter despair, knowing only too well that it was hopeless.

Then on and on again, with the horror of the terrible place seeming to crush them down, while to Saxe it was as if the waters were trying to leap at him to wash him from the narrow ledge and bear him away. And the farther they went on the more fearful the place seemed to grow. The walls dripped with moisture, as a result of the spray which rose from the hurrying race, and shut them in back and front with a gloomy mist, which struck cold and dank as it moistened their faces and seemed choking to breathe.

Again Dale paused, to peer down at one of the great whirling pools beneath the rock, which was being undermined in this place more than ever; and as Saxe clung by him and gazed down too, there was the perfectly round pool of water, with its central pipe, which, by the optical illusion caused by the gloom and mist, looked reversed—that is, as if the concavity were convex, and he were gazing at the eye of some subterranean monster, the effect being made more realistic by the rock overhanging it like a huge brow.

"Come on," cried Dale. But Saxe was fascinated, and did not hear his voice in the hollow, echoing, pipe-like roar.

"Come on, boy—quick!" he shouted again. But Saxe still bent down over the racing waters, to stare at that awful similitude of an eye, which moved strangely and bemused and fascinated him so that he looked as if he would be drawn down into it and be a victim to the awful place.

"Saxe! Saxe!" shouted Dale, seizing him by the arm; and the boy started and gazed at him wildly. "Can you see him!"

"No, no," cried the boy.

"What were you looking at!"

"That! that!" gasped Saxe.

"Ah! yes. Like some terrible eye. Come along. I can't think that anything would stay here. It would be swept along at a tremendous rate. That water is going almost at the rate of a great fall. They must have been borne right through long ago."

"Think so?" Saxe tried to say. Certainly his lips moved; and roused now from the strange fascination, he crept on after his leader, their progress being very slow in spite of their anxiety, for all was new and strange, and the next step, for aught they knew, might plunge them down to a fall like their guide's.

Then the way was dangerously narrow at times, one dripping place forcing them to stoop—so heavily overhung the rock above.

At last, just in front of them, the gorge seemed to end, for the place was blocked by a wall that ran across the narrow rift at right angles, and against this the whole body of water was propelled, to strike straight upon it, and rise up like a billow of the sea and fall back with a furious roar. Here the foam formed so dense a mist that Dale had crept right into it before he realised that, as the water fell back, it shot away through the gloom to his left, forming a fresh billow against a perpendicular wall before it again darted onward.

"Has this awful place no end!" he said, as he grasped the meaning of this fresh disturbance of its course; and he peered forward again for the path, it being absolute madness to think of seeing anything in the watery chaos below. Then, looking back, it was as if some icy hand had clutched his heart, for he was alone.

For the moment he felt that Saxe must have slipped and fallen, and in the agony he suffered he fancied himself back again in England facing the boy's father and trying to plead some excuse for the want of care. Saxe was entrusted to him for a few months' visit to the Alps—a visit to combine pleasure and instruction, as well as to gain more robust health.

As he thought this he was already on his way back to the sharp angle he had passed round, and as he reached it his horror and despair became almost unbearable.

But this part of his suffering had its termination; and he fully grasped that, like as in a dream, all this had occupied but a few moments of time, for a hand was thrust round the stony angle and searched for a projection, and as Dale eagerly grasped the humid palm, Saxe glided round and then followed him into the corner, beneath which the water roared and churned itself into foam, passed this in safety, and once more they crept on, thinking now only of getting out into the daylight and following the stream in the hope of finding poor Melchior's remains.

The same thoughts occurred to both of them: suppose the poor fellow was beyond their reach, swept right away into the depths of some lake miles away—what were they to do? Retrace their steps to the mouth of the gorge, where their provision was left, or try to find their way somehow over the mountains? It would be a fearful task, ignorant of their way, faint from want of food, weak from exhaustion. It was now for the first time that Saxe realised how terrible the mountains were, and how easily a person might be lost, or meet with a mishap that would mean laming, perhaps death.

Then their thoughts of self gave place again to those relating to their poor guide.

"We must find him!" Saxe cried involuntarily, and so loudly that Dale turned and looked back at him wildly, for the thoughts had been exactly his own.

"Yes," he said, his voice muffled by the roar of the waters; "we must find him. The place is not so very large, after all. Wait till we get out: I can't talk here."

For the roar had seemed to increase and the darkness to grow deeper for the next few yards. The water, too, was nearer, the path having a steep incline downward, with the natural result that the ledge was dripping with moisture, and from time to time some wave would strike the opposite wall with a heavy slap, and the spray fly in quite a gust, as of rain, full in their faces.

"It can't be much farther," thought Saxe, as he went cautiously down the incline, to see that the rock on his right now bent right over, and had caused the darkness. Then the path bent to the left, struck off to the right again, and was now down within three or four feet of the water, after which there was a fresh corner to be turned, where the wave that rose up seemed somehow illuminated; but they were quite close up, with the water almost running over the path, before they fully grasped that the light came from the side, bringing with it some hope, even if it were little; and at the same time Saxe felt the possibility of going back the same way now that the full extent of the danger could be grasped.

"Poor Melchior!" he muttered—"it must have been impossible for him to have led the mule through here;" and as he thought, this, the full light of day came streaming in, making Dale, a few yards before him, stand out like a silhouette clearly cut in black, while for a hundred yards the water now ran, rapidly widening and growing less like a torrent, till right away he could see it flowing smoothly between the towering rocks that were piled-up on either side of its bed.



CHAPTER TEN.

BEING USED TO IT.

Dale hurried on, with Saxe close behind him, till they were out of the gloomy schlucht, and scrambling over the rocks by the rapidly widening stream, whose waters had now grown turbid, and were bearing great patches of grey froth upon their surface.

They could see for a couple of hundred yards down the narrow way along which the stream ran; then it bore off to the right and was hidden; and to command a better view, as they eagerly searched the surface for some trace of Melchior, they mounted the tumbled-together rocks, and saw that they were at the head of a widening valley, surrounded by nearly level mountains, forming an oval, which looked like the bed of an ancient lake similar to the one they had lately left. But, in place of deep water, there was a plain of thinly scattered grass growing amongst fragments of rock that looked as if they had been swept down from the mountains round, and serpentining through the level was the swift river, whose course they could trace till it passed through a narrow gap at the far end.

Saxe climbed the higher, and balanced himself on the top of a rough block, which rocked slightly, like a Cornish logan, as he stood shading his eyes and following the course of the stream amongst the huge boulders which often hid it from view; while from his lower position Dale searched the windings nearer to them, hoping to see that which they sought stranded somewhere among the stones.

But they looked in vain.

"Can you see anything, Saxe?"

"No," replied the boy in a despondent tone: "can you, sir!"

"Nothing. We must follow the stream down. I dare say we shall find some shallows lower down. Come along quickly."

He began to descend.

"We must find him, Saxe, and then make the best of our way back for help. Poor fellow! I'd freely give all I possess to see him safe and sound."

"Then hurrah! Come up here, sir. Look! look!"

"What! you don't mean? Saxe, boy—speak!" cried Dale excitedly, trying to mount beside him.

"Hi! don't! You'll have me overboard!" shouted the boy, as the great block of stone rocked to such an extent that he nearly came down headlong. "Now, steady! Give me your hand."

The rock was kept in position now by the pressure on one side, but as Dale sprang up to Saxe's side, it began to rise again, and they had hard work to preserve their balance, as they stood straining their eyes to where they could see a man mounted upon some animal riding slowly across the green level lying in a loop of the stream.

"No, no," said Dale sadly, "that cannot be Melchior. It is some herdsman; but we'll go and meet him and get his help."

"It is Melchior," said Saxe decidedly.

"I would to Heaven it were, Saxe! Impossible! That man is a mile away. Distances are deceptive."

"I don't care if he's a hundred miles away," cried Saxe; "it's old Melk, and he's safe."

"You are deceiving yourself, boy."

"I'm not, sir. I'm sure of it; and he's all right. You see!"

He snatched off his hat, and began to wave it, bursting out at the same time into the most awful parody of a Swiss jodel that ever startled the mountains, and made them echo back the wild, weird sounds.

"There! Look!" cried Saxe excitedly, as the mounted man took off his hat, waved it in the air, and there floated toward them, faintly heard but beautifully musical, the familiar jodel they had heard before. Then, as it ceased, it was repeated from the rocks to the right, far louder, and made more musical by the reaction nearer at hand.

"There!" cried Saxe, "what did I tell you?" and he capered about on the moving rock, waving his hat and shouting again, "I—o—a—a—de—ah— diah—diah—Oh! Murder!"

Dale was in the act of saying, "Take care!" when the mass of stone careened over, and Saxe was compelled to take a flying leap downward on to another piece, off which he staggered ten feet lower, to come down with a crash.

"Hurt yourself!" cried Dale anxiously.

"Hurt myself, sir!" said Saxe reproachfully, as he scrambled up slowly: "just you try it and see. Oh my!" he continued rubbing himself, "ain't these stones hard!"

"Here,—give me your hand."

"Thankye. It's all right, only a bruise or two. I don't mind, now old Melk's safe."

"Don't deceive yourself, Saxe," said Dale sadly.

"What! Didn't you hear him jodel?"

"Yes, and you may hear every Swiss mountaineer we meet do that. You hailed him, and the man answered, and he is coming toward us," continued Dale, straining his eyes again to watch the slowly approaching figure. "Bah! How absurd! I'm as bad as the sailor who put his cutlass into his left hand, so that he could have his right free to knock an enemy down with his fist."

As he spoke, he dragged at the strap across his breast, took a little field-glass from the case, adjusted the focus, and levelled it at the distant figure.

"Hurrah, Saxe, you're right!" he cried, lowering the glass, seizing the boy's hand and wringing it vigorously.

"Hurrah! it is," cried Saxe; "I knew it. I could tell by the twist of that jolly old mule's head. I say, you owe me all you've got, Mr Dale. When are you going to pay?"

"When you ask me as if you meant it, boy."

"Ah, then! I can't ask!" cried Saxe. "Let's have a look at Melk."

He took the glass extended to him, rested his back against a block of stone, and carefully examined the figure.

"I say, isn't he wet! You can see his clothes sticking to him. But, Mr Dale, what a swim he must have had. Ah—ae—e—oh—diah—di—ah— diah—"

"Don't, boy, for goodness' sake!" cried Dale, clapping his hand over Saxe's lips. "If Gros hears that, he'll take fright and bolt."

"What, at my cry? That's jodelling I'm learning."

"Then practise your next lesson in a cornfield, when we get home. Any farmer would give you an engagement to keep off the crows."

"Oh, I say, Mr Dale!" cried Saxe, "you are too bad. Just you try whether you can do it any better."

"No, thanks," said Dale, laughing: "I am full of desire to learn all I can, but I think I shall make an exception with regard to the jodel. Come along down, and let's meet him."

They descended the rock so as to get on to the rugged plain; and ten minutes after Melchior rode up on his bare-backed mule, soaking wet, and with the mule steaming; but otherwise, as far as they could see, neither was any the worse for the late adventure.

"Melk, old chap!" cried Saxe, seizing one hand.

"Melchior, my good fellow!" cried Dale, seizing the other; "I thought we'd lost you."

The guide's sombre face lit up, and his eyes looked moist as he returned the friendly grasp.

"Thank you, herrs," he said warmly, "thank you."

"But you are hurt," cried Dale.

"I thank you, no, herr; not much."

"But tell us," cried Saxe, who had been scanning him all the time, "where are you hurt?"

"Hurt? I am not hurt," said the guide quietly. "A few bruises and a lump on my head—that is all."

"But the mule,—he struck you down with his hoofs."

"It was more of a push, herr."

"But tell us—we thought you were drowned in that awful place."

"Yes, it was bad," said Melchior, quite calmly. "It is so swift and the water so full of air that you cannot swim, and one was turned about so and rolled over, but I held on to Gros here, and it did not take long before we were through."

"But your breath? Did you keep on the surface?" said Dale.

"I don't know, herr. It was all darkness and confusion; but we were rolled up against the rock sometimes, and I managed to get my breath. Then we were driven on and on very fast. You see the rock is worn so smooth, there is nothing against which you can catch. The stones swept down by the water have worn that all away, and one goes quite quick, holding one's breath, till one is shot out as if from a gun, and the water gets smoother. Then we got our breath easily, and Gros here began to swim while I held on by his mane; but we had to go a long way down before there was a place for the mule to land."

"But do you mean to tell me," cried Dale, "that you both came through that horrible place and are none the worse for it?"

The guide smiled.

"Well, herr," he said, "I am very wet, and there were moments when I thought I could not hold my breath any longer, but there are no bones broken and no cuts or grazes."

"Then there is nothing else the matter with you?" cried Saxe.

"Well, yes, herr; I am very hungry."

"Hungry!" cried Saxe excitedly. "Yes, of course: I'd forgotten; so am I. Here, Mr Dale, let you and me go and get the basket whilst he dries himself in the sun."

"No, no," cried Melchior firmly, "neither of you could carry that pannier through the schlucht. I am wet, and it will do me good to get warm carrying the load."

"No, Melchior, it would not be right," said Dale. "I will go."

"No, herr," said Melchior firmly; "as your guide I should be disgracing myself by letting you run the risk. I have been used from a child to carry loads upon my back along ledges and places where an Englishman would shrink from going. I am not hurt or tired: it is my duty; so with all respect to you I will go."

"But—"

"Answer me, herr, as a gentleman," cried Melchior warmly: "do you feel that you could safely carry that pannier through the schlucht?"

"I should try to," said Dale.

"Ah! that shows weakness: you cannot say that you would."

They went back to a spot where there was a rich patch of grass, and here the guide alighted and took off the mule's bridle to turn it loose, when it immediately proved that nothing was the matter in its direction by having a good roll in the grass and then proceeding to crop it with the best of appetites.

"Light your pipe, herr," said Melchior, smiling: "I dare say I shall be back before you have got through it twice;" and springing from rock to rock, he soon reached the ledge nearly flush with the water, and they watched him enter the low narrow long chasm till his figure grew dim in the gloom; and a minute later had disappeared.

"I don't feel comfortable at letting him go, Saxe," said Dale.

"I do, sir," began Saxe.

"Stop!" cried Dale.

"What's the matter, sir?" cried Saxe, wondering.

"This, my boy! Never mind the sir while we are out here as companions. We are friends and helpmates—brothers if you like. Now what were you going to say?"

"Oh! only that I don't feel uneasy about him. A man who could tumble into the water at the other end and be shot through like a pellet from a popgun, can't come to any harm. I say, how long do you think he'll be?"

"Nearly an hour," replied Dale.

"Nearly an hour," cried Saxe dolefully—"an hour to wait before we can get anything to eat. Ah! you lucky beggar," he continued, apostrophising the mule, "you've got plenty, and are enjoying it, while I've got none. But I mean to—"

"Here! what are you going to do?" cried Dale.

"Climb down to the water's edge and have a good drink. I'm as thirsty as a fish."

"Then we must look out for a spring. You can't drink that water."

"Can't drink it?" cried Saxe; "why, I'm so thirsty, I could drink anything."

"Not that. Why, it's full of stone and snow. Bad as bad can be. Come along, and let's see what we can find. It will be better than doing nothing; and I'm thirsty too. Let's try that little rift in the mountain. It looks the sort of place for a rivulet to come sparkling down amongst moss and ferns. Let's try."

He led the way toward the rift, which looked like the beginning of a similar chasm to that through which they had so lately come, Saxe following closely behind, while the mule went on crop, crop at the thin fine grass, with his coat rapidly drying in the hot afternoon sun.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

A GLISSADE IS NOT ALL BLISS.

It took a long time to find that bubbling spring; but they discovered it at last, coming down from hundreds of feet above their heads, over vivid green moss and under fern fronds, to form into tiny pools in the crevices of the rocks; and from one of these they drank with avidity long cooling draughts of the sparkling water dipped out in the flask cup, and then they turned to go.

As they walked back, it was to find that Melchior had just returned with the pannier, and had been spreading part of his clothes in the sun to dry.

"We have been after water," said Dale.

"Ah! you found it all right, then?" said the guide eagerly.

"Yes; but it is a good way off, and I only had my flask with me."

"Good way off!" said Melchior. "Why, it is close here."

"But we could not drink that," cried Saxe.

"Why? It is beautiful water. I will show you."

He took a tin from the basket as he spoke.

"Well, you can drink it if you like," said Saxe. "I wouldn't have minded it out of the lake; but this thick stuff—why, it's horrid."

"From the lake? No, not good," said the guide. "Bad for the throat. See here!"

He took a dozen steps toward the schlucht, and passed round a huge mass of rock, behind which a pure fount of water gushed out from a rift, at whose foot Gros was drinking where the water ran down to join the river.

"Some people say that they like to travel without a guide," said Dale quietly.

"Yes, herr; there are plenty who come here, and think they know in a day all that it has taken me more than twenty years to learn."

He led the way back to the basket, and busily spread their homely dinner on a smooth block of stone, Saxe vowing that he had never eaten such bread and cheese before.

When the meal was ended, and the basket once more placed on the mule's back, Dale looked inquiringly at the guide.

"Over yonder, herr," he said, pointing at the wall of rock away to their left.

"But we can't get up there with the mule," cried Saxe: "we're not flies."

"Wait and see, herr," replied Melchior. "We shall mount yonder, and then go right over the col between those two peaks. There is the valley on the other side that we are seeking, and there we must rest for the night."

"Then the sooner we start the better," said Dale, "for the day is getting on."

"Yes, herr; and the mists come down into the col where the snow lies. Are you ready?"

The answer was in the affirmative, and the guide started straight for the wall of rock, which still looked quite impassable as they drew near, till Melchior turned sharply round into a cleft, which looked as if a huge piece had been cut down from the mountain, and left guile separate and still standing.

Up this cleft they mounted steadily, till, to Saxe's surprise, he found himself high above the mighty wall which shut in the valley, and only now, as it were, at the foot of the mountains, which rose up fold beyond fold, apparently endless, and for the most part snow-capped, with snow lying deeply in the hollows, and filling up the narrow col or depression between the peaks where they were to pass.

Saxe looked up at the snow, and then at Dale, who also seemed to have his doubts.

"Can we pass that before dark?" he said.

"Yes, herr. Trust me: I know."

"But how far have we to go on the other side? If it is very far, had we not better camp here for the night?"

"When we reach the summit of the col, herr, our task is done. There is a deep hollow, well sheltered, and where the snow never falls."

"I leave myself in your hands, Melchior," said Dale. "Go on."

The climb over the rugged ground was very laborious, but there was a brisk freshness in the air which kept fatigue at a distance, and they toiled on up and up, with the sloping rays of the sun making the snow above them indescribably beautiful.

"Yes," said Saxe, "but I'm getting too tired and out of breath to enjoy it now. I'll do that to-morrow."

"The young herr shall come and see the sun rise on the snow passes," said Melchior. "I will call him."

"No, don't, please," said Saxe. "I shall want two days' sleep after this."

The guide laughed, patted Gros, who trudged on as fresh apparently as ever, till they reached the rough culm of a ridge, to look down at once on the snow slope to which they had to descend for a couple of hundred feet, the ridge they were on acting as a buttress to keep the snow from gliding down into the valley.

"Is that the last?" asked Saxe.

"Yes, herr. One hour's quiet, steady work. Half an hour after, the fire will be burning and the kettle boiling for our tea."

"What! up there in that snow!"

"No, herr: we shall have descended into the warm shelter of which I spoke."

They soon reached the foot of the snow, which rose up in one broad smooth sheet, pure and white beyond anything existing lower down, and as, now thoroughly tired, Saxe gazed up at the beautiful curve descending from the mountains on either side, it seemed to be a tremendous way up.

"The snow is pretty hard," said Melchior. "Use my steps."

He clapped the mule on the haunch, and the sturdy beast set off at once up the laborious ascent, with its hoofs sinking in deeply, as instinctively it sloped off to the right instead of breasting the ascent at once.

"But what about the rope, Melchior?" said Dale sharply.

"There is no need for a rope here, herr. This snow lies on the solid rock, and every crevice and hollow is full, with the snow harder and more strong the deeper we go."

"Of course: I had forgotten. This is not a glacier. Come, Saxe! Tired?"

"Wait till I get to the top," was the reply; and they climbed on, with the snow gradually changing colour as it was bathed in the evening sunshine, till they seemed to be tramping up and up over grains of gold, which went rushing back as Gros plunged his way upward, turning from time to time, and retracing his steps at an angle, thus forming a zigzag as regular as if it had been marked out for him at starting.

"Seems to grow as one climbs," grumbled Saxe at last, as he grew too tired to admire the glorious prospect of gilded peaks which kept on opening out at every turn.

"But it does not," replied Dale. "Come: do your best! It's splendid practice for your muscles and wind. You are out of breath now, but a week or two hence you will think nothing of a slope like this; and to-morrow I am thinking of ascending that peak, if you like to come."

"Which?" cried Saxe.

"That to the right, where the rock is clear on one side and it is all snow on the other."

"Yes, I see."

"It is not one of the high peaks, but the rocks look attractive, and it will be practice before I try something big. But you'll be too much done up with to-day's work."

Saxe frowned, and they went on in silence for a time, till, at one of the turns made by the mule, Dale paused.

"Like a rest?" he said.

"No," replied Saxe; "we may as well get to the top first."

Dale smiled to himself.

"He has plenty of spirit," he muttered; and he watched Saxe toiling on, with his feet sinking in the snow at every step, and how he never once glanced up at the top of the col for which they were making; but he gave a start and his face lit up as Melchior suddenly uttered his peculiar jodel.

"The top of the col," he cried; and, as the others joined him where he stood, with his arm over the mule's neck, he said, "Would the herrs like me to tell them the names of the different peaks?"

"Yes, after tea," said Saxe, laughing. "But, I say, I thought this was a sharp ridge, like the roof of a church, and that we should go down directly off the snow."

"Patience, herr," said Melchior. "Come along, then. It is colder up here. See how low the sun is, and feel how hard the snow becomes."

Saxe glanced at the great ruddy glow in the west, and saw how the different peaks had flashed up into brilliant light; he noted, too, that if he trod lightly, his feet hardly went through the crust on the snow.

"Why, it's beginning to freeze!" he cried suddenly.

"Yes, herr; on this side it is freezing hard. On the other side it will be soft yet. That is the south."

They went on for three or four hundred yards, over what seemed to be a level plain of snow, but which they knew from what they had seen below, hung in a curve from the dazzling snow peaks on either hand, and to be gracefully rounded south and north.

So gradual was the descent that nothing was visible of the valley for which they were making; and Saxe was just about to attack the guide about his declaration respecting the short time after reaching the top of the col before they would be at tea, when Melchior suddenly stopped, and as Saxe joined him where he stood, the snow ran down suddenly, steeply, and with a beautiful curve into a tiny valley, whose floor was green, with a silver rivulet winding through it, and several clumps of dwarfed pines turning it into quite a park.

"There is our resting-place, herr," he said, "with a perfect bit of snow for a glissade."

"What, slide down the snow!" cried Saxe. "To be sure! Shall I be able to stop myself! I don't want to go rolling down into that water like a ball."

"Come behind me," said Dale quietly; "I'll show you how. Stand up as I do, and hold your alpenstock behind you like this. Some people say it is wrong, but I always get on so."

He pressed his alpenstock into the snow behind him, holding it under his left arm with both hands; and leaning back upon it, he waited till Saxe had imitated him exactly.

"If you find you are going down too fast, lean back more, so as to drive your pike down into the snow. Try and keep your balance. If you go over, hold on to your alpenstock and try to stop yourself the best way you can. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Then off! Steady, slowly, as you can. There's no hurry."

"Well, I don't want to hurry," muttered Saxe, as he began to glide down the beautiful sloping curve, with the crisp large-grained snow hissing and flying down before him. It was glorious. He felt as if he were flying; then as if he were having a splendid skate without the slightest exertion. The bottom of the valley began to fly up to meet him, and he had some slight consciousness of Dale being close before or behind him, he could not tell which, for his mind was concentrated upon his descent, which grew more and more rapid and delightful. Every sense of weariness was gone, and he was just thinking of lammergeyers in their flight, when he heard his companions shouting to him, just as he lost his balance and came down on his side. Then, he lost his alpenstock and directly after his temper, as he found he was rolling down head first till he gave himself a tremendous wrench, and contrived to get his feet foremost, with his heels down in the snow, and by degrees rose into a sitting position, finishing his descent more deliberately, for fortunately the slope grew less and less, till he was brought up by the stones at the foot, and able to look up.

"Hurt?" cried Dale, who came down to him directly after.

"Haven't had time to see yet," said Saxe gruffly. "Here are my trousers got right up my legs."

"No skin off your knuckles?"

"I think not," said Saxe. "Are you all right? But what did it?"

"You."

"No. There must have been something sticking up out of the enow to upset me: a piece of rock, I think."

"You'll think differently after a few more tries," said Dale, laughing; and returned to see how Melchior was getting down with the mule.

They were coming far more gently, the mule having tucked its hind legs close beneath it, and slid steadily down, while by means of his ice-axe Melchior regulated his pace to that of the quadruped, till they, too, were at the bottom.

"Saxe thinks there was a piece of rock sticking out of the snow ready to upset him," cried Dale.

"Hush! Don't make him laugh at a fellow," said the boy hurriedly.

Melchior smiled.

"It was his first lesson," he said quietly. "Now, there is a clump of rocks between those two patches of pines, and water and wood in abundance. Will you have the fire there?"

Half an hour after they were all seated round a crackling fire, well sheltered on all sides, and with the rock projecting far over their heads in case of rain. The kettle was singing, the coffee ready, the rest of the provisions spread, and the mule cropping the grass close by, never once trying to leave the vicinity of his human companions.

An hour after the fire was out the stars shone brilliantly, and the little party slept beneath their rugs on a couch of pine boughs as soundly as in the most luxurious couch that had fallen to their lot.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

FIRST MOUNTAIN CLIMB.

The loud crack of something breaking awoke Saxe to the knowledge that a grey light was peering through the pines, and that, though he was comfortably warm, there was a crisp coldness in the air he breathed.

Then there was another sharp crack, and another, as of sticks being broken; and he raised himself up to begin looking cautiously round. For Melchior had said that there were bears about still in the mountains, and the first idea that occurred to him was that a savage beast was breaking his way through the thick pine-wood with inimical intent.

Another crack and another, very close at hand, and then a faint sighing sound—evidently the expiration of some living creature's breath.

Saxe felt a catching sensation at the breast, a tingling in the temples and cheeks, as if his veins were startled and his blood running wild; and he stole his hand softly out from under the rug, to try and reach his companions and rouse them to a sense of the impending danger—trying to recollect at the same moment where the ice-axes had been placed when they lay down overnight.

But at that moment there was a sharper crack than ever, and a faint odour of burning, followed by the quick crackling so familiar when a green pine bough is thrown upon the flames.

"Oh, what a coward I am!" thought Saxe, sinking back and placing his enlaced fingers beneath his head, as he gazed straight up at the dark branches above. "Just as if a bear would come and attack us, even if there was one anywhere near! He'd scuffle off as soon as he smelt man."

"Perhaps not if he was very hungry," he thought, after a few minutes. "But I do wish I could feel brave, like men do, and not turn shaky and queer at the least thing. Here was I imagining all that rubbish just because I heard a stick broken by old Melchior to make the fire. Yesterday all I had to do was to walk along a shelf of rock, with some water running down below me. If it had been out in the open sunshine I shouldn't have minded a bit; but because it was a little dark I fancied all sorts of stuff. Of course it was a bit startling to see a fellow go head over heels into a torrent along with a moke and be swept away; but I don't believe old Melk was half so much frightened as I was."

"It's very silly lying here," he said to himself again, as the scent of the burning pine-wood increased. "Bit cold outside the rug; but we left the door and the windows open last night, and that's healthy all the same. I do wish, though, I could get on without being scared so soon. Perhaps it's all through being ill last year and feeling so weak. But I didn't seem weak yesterday. I was precious tired, but so was Mr Dale. I'm afraid I'm a coward, and I suppose all I can do is to hide it and not let people see."

"They sha'n't see!" he muttered, after a few minutes; and then he lay still, thinking of home, his mother and father, and of their ready consent when Mr Dale offered to take him as his companion in an experimental trip to the high Alps.

"I wonder what they are all doing now?" he thought. "Asleep, of course. I don't believe my mother would sleep comfortably, though, if she knew I was lying out here like this, with no bed-curtains and the snow just over us. It is rum, though—summer and winter all muddled up together so closely that you stand with your right leg in July, picking flowers and catching butterflies, and the left leg in January, so that you can turn over and make a snowball or pick icicles off the rocks."

A pleasant, drowsy sensation began to steal over him, and he was about to give way to it, when the idea came like a flash that it would be idle and cowardly; and this thought made him spring up, and fold the rug in which he had been rolled; and after a glance at where Mr Dale still slept, he went softly out of the clump of trees in the direction where he could hear the crackling, to find Melchior in the act of placing the tin kettle they had brought upon the fire.

"Good morning, herr. A fine day."

"Not much day about it," said Saxe, with a slight shiver. "What time is it?"

"I don't know, herr; but the sun will soon be up. Look!"

He pointed overhead to where, grim-looking and grey, one of the mountains towered up: and right away, at a great height, there was what looked like a broad streak of pale—very pale—red, apparently a piece of cloud just over the mountain top.

"What's that?"

"Snow, herr, beginning to be lit up by the sun. That is where we are going by-and-by—the mountain with the enow on one side but bare rock on the other."

Saxe stood gazing upward with a feeling of awe creeping over him. There was no mistake about height here. The line of snow, which ended as quickly as if it had been cut square at one end, seemed terribly far away; and Saxe was thinking that it seemed almost madness to try and reach such a spot, when Melchior drew his attention to first one and then another flake of ruddy light in the distance.

"Clouds?" asked Saxe; though he felt what the answer would be.

"No," replied the guide—"mountain peaks. Will you awaken Mr Dale, or shall I?"

"I am awake," said that personage. "Is there any water near here? Oh yes, I remember. Well, Saxe, had your bath?"

Saxe looked confused, and said nothing.

"I asked you if you had had your bath, my lad," said Mr Dale, looking at him wonderingly.

"Well, the fact is," stammered the boy, "there was no jug or basin, and I—"

"Forgot it?" said Dale.

"Yes, I forgot it," replied the boy, with an effort; and as he spoke he felt to himself that this was a touch of moral, though it was not physical, cowardice, for he ought to have spoken out frankly.

"Well, I'm going to have mine. How long will the coffee be, Melchior?"

"Not a quarter of an hour, herr."

"Right. We'll soon be back," cried Dale; and a few minutes after he and Saxe were having a good scrub about the neck and shoulders, and glowing as if from an electric shock, so brisk and sharp was the water that came tumbling down over the rocks in the middle of one of the clumps of pines whose tops were freshened by the little cascade.

Back to the alfresco breakfast, which Dale ate with his back resting against a block of stone nestling in a mass of whortleberry, and gazing up at the mountain, while he and Melchior discussed the plan of their ascent.

"Yes," said Dale, "you are right. We ought to take to the snow there, cross to that arete, and—"

"What's an arete?" said Saxe, who was listening eagerly.

"That ridge along the summit of yonder spur or buttress," said Dale. "That will bring us back to the main part of the mountain, and we ought to reach the shoulder from there."

"No, herr," said the guide quietly; "the climbing would be too steep, and there is a slope there which later on will be swept by loose stones. Better take to the snow again, then work up it."

"But suppose it is in bad condition?"

"It will be shaded from the sun till the afternoon, and quite hard. From there, you see, we can easily get to the shoulder, and then choose our way up the last part by the rocks or the snow. You see that either can be reached: that is plain enough from here."

"Yes, it looks easy," said Dale thoughtfully. "The rock for preference, for I want to see the structure, and we may find specimens of what I am seeking."

"Yonder will be most likely," said Melchior, pointing to a huge mass of dark mountain a few miles away, part of which was now glowing in the morning sun, whose bright rays made the ice and snow glitter on a score of peaks.

"We'll, try that later on," said Dale. "Have you never been up it?"

"No, herr; but I have been on others, where little crystals have been found in cracks; and they were mountains like that—very steep-sided, and having little snow."

"There's plenty of time," said Dale, raising his glass to examine the farther mountain attentively. "We'll try that by-and-by. Has it any name?"

"The Black Nun, herr. That is the White Nun, on beyond it, to the right."

"Yes, I'll keep to my original plan," said Dale, looking up once more to the mountain at whose foot they sat, "and in half an hour we'll be off. How many hours will it take us?"

"Eight or nine, herr. It depends on—"

He paused and looked at Saxe.

"To be sure, yes," said Dale thoughtfully. "I think," he continued, to Saxe's great relief, "that, as this one is rather difficult and dangerous—"

"It ought not to be dangerous, herr, if we are careful."

"Well, then, difficult," continued Dale—"you had better content yourself, Saxe, by staying here in camp and watching us with the glass."

Saxe changed his position viciously.

"I wish you would not think me such a coward, sir," he said, with a display of temper. "I am to learn to climb: why not let me begin now?"

As soon as he had spoken he repented; for he felt nervous about so steep a climb, and he told himself that, by his hasty words and assumption of eagerness, he had made his feelings clear to those who listened.

Dale looked at him searchingly, and Saxe coloured beneath his gaze.

"If it would be more satisfaction to you to come with us, do so by all means. It will be hard and toilsome, but Melchior and I will take, care of you."

"Oh, if they would not think me such a cowardly child!" thought Saxe. Then, aloud—

"I should like to come, and I'll do the best I can to keep up with you."

"And if there is a bit of extra difficult climbing, why, you—you must wait till we come back."

"Yes, I could do that," replied Saxe; and as soon as the breakfast was ended a wallet was filled with food, a couple of bottles with water, and Melchior took the rope, passed his head and right arm through it, and looked at Dale as much as to say, "I am ready."

"Will these things be all right?" said the latter, taking an ice-axe from where it hung up on a tree; and he pointed to the basket.

"There is no one here to touch them, herr."

"And the mule?"

"He will not wander far from the basket, herr. We shall find him close at hand."

"Then, forward!" said Dale; and the little party began the ascent almost directly, their way being back up the snow slope down which, on the previous day, Saxe had made so rapid a descent; and it was only now that the boy realised how far he had come.

"It will be easy coming back, herr," said Melchior, as they stopped for a few minutes to rest, "and you must not lose your balance this time."

"Only a little out of breath," replied Saxe; but as he spoke he could not help giving a glance up at the huge pile of granite, ice and snow towering high above his head.

Dale laughed.

"Well, Saxe," he said, "are you beginning to find out how high the mountains are?"

Saxe nodded.

"Yes," he said; "they deceive you at a distance. Is this the highest?"

Dale laughed again.

"Well," he replied, "it is not quite the smallest. Say the medium. On again, Melchior!"

"Yes, herr: let's get as high as we can while the morning is young and the snow hard. We can take our time on the rock."

The guide was following the custom that seems to have come natural to man and beast—that of zigzagging up a steep place; but instead of making for the centre of the col, where it was lowest, he kept bearing to the left—that is, he made the track three times the length of that to the right, and he drew on toward where the slope grew steeper and steeper.

The snow was far better to walk upon now, for the surface was well frozen, and they had only to plant their feet in the deep steps the guide made by driving the soles of his heavily nailed boots well into the crust.

"Take care! take care!" he kept on saying to Saxe, who was in the middle. "There is no danger, but a slip would send you down, and you could not stop till you were at the bottom."

"I'll mind," said Saxe, as he stole a glance now and then up at the steep white slope above him, or at that beneath, beyond which the pines among which they had slept the past night now looked like heather.

"Yes, it is all very big, Mr Dale," he said suddenly.

"Wait a bit. You don't half know yet. Say it's bigger than you thought. Getting harder, isn't it, Melchior?"

"Yes, herr. If it gets much harder, I shall have to cut steps; but only here and there, where it's steepest."

"Isn't it steepest now?" said Saxe, who felt as if he could touch the surface by extending his right hand.

"Oh no, herr. You don't mind?"

"Not a bit," cried the lad: "I like it."

"What's the matter?" said Dale, as they still mounted the dazzling slope of snow, far now above the dip of the col over which they had come.

"Bad piece here, sir. We'll have the rope. I'll fasten my end and hand the rest to you, to secure yourselves while I begin cutting."

"Right!" replied Dale; and a minute later he caught the rings of hemp thrown to him, and rapidly knotted the middle round Saxe, the end to his own waist; and as he knotted, click, click! chip, chip! went the ice-axe, deftly wielded by the guide, who with two or three blows broke through enough of the crust to make a secure footing while the ice flew splintering down the slope in miniature avalanches, with a peculiar metallic tinkling sound.

"Will there be much to cut?" said Dale.

"No, herr; only a step here and there to make us quite safe,"—and he chipped away again after a few steps, and broke in others with the toes of his boots.

"I say," whispered Saxe, "suppose he slipped while he's swinging that axe round, he'd drag us both down too."

"And by the same argument, if you or I slipped, we should snatch him from his place."

"Yes; that's what I thought.

"That would only be in a very extreme case; and you may as well learn your mountaineer's lesson at once. When we are roped together, and one slips, he generally saves himself by rapidly sticking the sharp pick of his axe into the snow. He gives the others ample warning by this that something is wrong before the jerk and strain come upon the rope."

"And what do they do?"

"Drive their ice-picks right into the snow, hang back against the slope, and tighten the rope from one to the other. So that generally, instead of a fall, there is only a short slip. Do you understand!"

"Yes, I think so."

"So it is that three or four who understand mountaineering, and work together and trust each other, go up and down places that would be impassable to the unskilful. Hah! we are getting to the top of this slope. Tut, tut! cutting again. Look out!"