The Crystal Hunters Part 14

"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 sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.s 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 pa.s.s 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!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed 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."