Part 39 (1/2)

”Yes,” said the boy; and he stepped back also for a few yards, sprang and cleared the gap with a yard or so to spare. ”What a place it would be to fall down, though!” said Saxe, as he began to tramp on over the snow by Dale's side. ”I couldn't help thinking so as I flew over it.”

”And very stupid of you too! There's no danger in leaping over a dry ditch four feet wide, so why should you make a fuss about the same distance because it is deep?”

Boom!

”Hallo!” said Dale. ”That sounded like snow somewhere up in the mountains; and by the way, we're on snow now: Melchior ought to rope us.

How do we know there are not creva.s.ses close at hand?” He turned to speak to the guide, and found Saxe standing there staring back.

”Hallo!” he cried, ”where's Melchior?”

”I don't know,” faltered Saxe.

”Didn't you see him jump over the crack?”

”No. Didn't you?”

”It was such a trifle, I did not think of it. Good heavens! he has not met with an accident? Ah, that noise!”

They turned back together for about a hundred yards over the smooth snow, following their own steps clearly marked in the white surface; and then stopped short aghast, for the deeply indented place in the snow where they had landed in their jump was gone, and in its stead they saw a great triangular-shaped opening widening the creva.s.se to more than double its original dimensions, while just at its edge close to their feet there was a peculiar mark, such as would have been made by an ice-axe suddenly struck down through the snow to plough its way till it disappeared over the edge.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

A FEARFUL WATCH.

It was all plain enough now. The weight of the two who had first leaped must have cracked a portion of the edge of the creva.s.se--a part rotten from long exposure to the sun, rain and frost. Then Melchior must have sprung over, the great triangular piece had given way, he had made a desperate attempt to save himself with his axe, but that had not struck home, and he had gone down with the ma.s.s of ice and snow, the echoing crash and boom having drowned any cry he might have uttered, even if he had time to call for help.

Saxe gave one horrified look at his companion, and then, stepping aside to the unbroken part of the creva.s.se, he went down on his hands and knees in the snow, then upon his breast, and drew himself close to the edge till his head and chest were over and he could peer down.

”Take care! take care!” cried Dale hoa.r.s.ely, though he was doing precisely the same. ”Can you see anything?”

Saxe's negative sounded like a groan, for he could see nothing but the pale blue sides of the ice going down perpendicularly to where, growing from pale to dark blue, they became black as the darkness out of which came the deep, loud, hissing, rus.h.i.+ng sound of waters which he had heard before.

”He must be lying down there stunned by his fall!” cried Dale; and then to himself, in a whisper full of despair--”if he is not killed.”

”Melk! Melk!” yelled Saxe just then. But there was nothing but the strange echo of his own voice, mingled with the curious hissing rush of water, which sounded to the listeners like the hurried whisperings and talk of beings far down below.

”Ahoy, Melchior!” cried Dale, now shouting with all his might.

No answer; and he shouted again.

”Do--do you feel sure he did fall down here?” said Saxe with difficulty, for his voice seemed to come from a throat that was all dry, and over a tongue that was parched.

”There can be no doubt about it,” said Dale sadly. ”Oh, poor fellow!

poor fellow! I feel as if I am to blame for his death.”

”Melk--Mel-chi-or!” shouted Saxe, with his hands to his mouth, as he lay there upon his chest, and he tried to send his voice down into the dark depths below.

There was a curious echo, that was all; and he lay listening to the rus.h.i.+ng water and trying to pierce the darkness which looked like a mist.

At another time he would have thought of the solemn beauty of the place, with its wonderful gradations of blue growing deeper as they descended.