Part 70 (2/2)
”Melchior and Mr Dale will seek for me and dig me out,” he thought. ”I must listen till I hear them, and then shout.”
He grew calmer now, and listened; but all was perfectly still, and a chill struck through him as he asked himself a terrible question--
”Where were his companions!”
He had been plodding on, he remembered, with Mr Dale behind him; but he had not seen a sign of his companion since, though he had seen Melchior, who had caught him by the wrist, and then--
”Yes: what then?”
He could remember no more, only that horrible confusion as they were carried down, till he was fighting for breath, buried at the bottom of the drift.
Saxe listened again, straining his ears for the faintest sound, but hearing nothing.
”They must have been carried farther,” he tried to think; ”and as soon as they can climb up they will begin to seek for me;” and he repeated this cheering thought to fight back another, which was vague, strange and terrible--a thought which suggested the impossibility of two people discovering the tiny hole made by the head of an ice-axe in the midst of the snow of that tremendous avalanche.
”I don't care; I will not give up hoping,” he said to himself, as he moved the ice-axe gently, and saw a ray or two more light. Then he began to wonder whether the heat of his body would melt enough of the snow-ice about him to enable him to work his way out; and in this hope he waited and rested for a few minutes, for the exertion even of moving the axe seemed to set his heart beating fast.
Then once more the feeling of horror grew more terrible than he could bear; and he was fast succ.u.mbing to it and losing his senses, when he fancied that he heard a cry.
It ceased directly; and then, as he listened with every nerve on the strain, there it was again--faint, apparently very distant, but plainly enough--the jodel of some Swiss, if it were not that of the guide.
Throwing his head back as far as he could, and keeping the axe handle tight against the side of the narrow hole, Saxe sent up a despairing cry for help.
As he ceased he made a desperate struggle to free himself, but it was useless; and he listened again and to his great joy the jodel came again, and he answered it.
Then there was a terrible period of suspense; and, as no sound was heard, he yelled with all his might, and this time there was undoubtedly an answering call.
Once more he shouted, and a hail came from nearer; and then, to his despair, it was repeated from farther away, making the unfortunate prisoner utter a despairing cry of rage, which had the effect of bringing the sound once more nearer and nearer still, and at last so close that he knew it was Melchior's voice which cried--
”Now, once more shout. Where are you?”
Saxe's lips parted, and he drew in his breath in the excitement and relief of feeling that help was so close at hand; but no sound would come save a low, hoa.r.s.e gasp, and then a giddy sensation came over him, and once more all was darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.
FROM THE SNOW GRAVE.
Saxe seemed to have awakened from sleep with a terrible throbbing headache, to listen to a curious digging sound which was going on over his head. He could hear a loud rumbling too, and, as he was still wandering and confused at being suddenly awakened, as it appeared to him, the truth came with a leap, just as the axe handle, which he still held, was sharply agitated to keep the hole open, and Melchior's voice came down to him.
”Try--try and speak, young herr!” But for a few moments no word would come from his lips. He wanted to speak; he strove hard, wondering the while at his silence; but not a sound came, till there was a deep groan from above him, and then with a sudden rush the words came from his pent up breast--
”Melk! Help--help!”
”Hah! That's right. Yes, boy!” was shouted down to him loudly.
”That's right. Keep a good heart, and I'll soon have you out. Can you breathe well?”
<script>