Part 61 (1/2)
”I'm sorry too, for I hate to feel afraid.”
”That was enough to make any man feel afraid. I'm trembling too, my lad; and my heart felt quite in my throat for a few moments.”
Just then the rope was shaken vigorously, and became still once more.
”It is quite safe now, herr!” cried the guide; ”and I am holding it down too.”
”Right!” shouted back Dale. ”I'll go first this time, Saxe.”
”No, sir! please let me go: I would rather.”
”Do you feel cool enough?”
”That will make me cooler.”
”Then go on. Stop! you had better have the rope midway fastened to your waist, and I can hold the other end; then you cannot fall.”
”No, no!” cried Saxe, rather hoa.r.s.ely. ”Let me climb without.”
Dale gave way rather unwillingly, and the boy seized the rope, gave it a tremendous tug, and then swung himself out sidewise and began to climb; while Dale leaned out and watched him, uttering a low sigh of satisfaction as he saw him reach the top, and then following without making use of the rope.
”Now,” he said, as he reached the others, ”how was it that rope slipped?”
”I cannot say, herr,” cried Melchior. ”Look, here: the loop is big enough for it to come off easily if some one took hold of it with both hands and drew it up quite two feet, but it could not slip off by itself.”
”But it did.”
Melchior shook his head.
”Oh, man, man, how can you be so absurd!” cried Dale impatiently. ”You don't mean to say you believe any mischievous imp could have thrown it off?”
”What am I to believe, when the rope falls on us like that? There is no one here in this desolate, awful place--not even a wild beast.”
”Stop!” cried Saxe: ”are you sure? Would a bear do that?”
”Surely not, herr.”
”I'll believe in the bear before I believe in the gnome or kobold!”
cried Dale. ”Oh, Melchior! now I have so far had so much respect for you as a frank, manly Switzer, don't spoil it by trying to cloak an error with a paltry excuse. You did not properly secure the rope; it came off; and it was an accident. You know it was an accident, so let it rest.”
”I have tried hard to win the herr's confidence, and to deserve it,”
said the man coldly. ”I secured that rope as I believe any guide upon the mountains would have fastened it. The rope gave way not by breaking or coming untied, and I cannot tell how. I told the herr the beliefs of my people, and that I had ceased to think that they were true; but we are seeking to penetrate the mysteries of the mines, and this accident has befallen us. I can say no more.”
”Better not to say more,” said Dale coldly. ”Will you lead on?”
Saxe glanced in the guide's face, and gave him a look of sympathy as he saw how it was wrinkled and drawn with trouble; but nothing more was said, and he went on coiling up the rope as they pa.s.sed along the dark chasm, only stopping to untie the knot as they reached the main rift and began the descent toward the glacier.
It was no place for conversation, even if Saxe had been so disposed; for every one's energies were taken up by the task of mastering the way between or over the rugged blocks which filled the bottom of the place.
But at last, at a sudden turn, a gleam of the white ice was seen, and soon after Dale was busily obliterating the mark he had made that morning for Melchior's guidance.