Part 73 (1/2)

”I'm nearly wearied out. Let's sit down on the rope for a few minutes.”

”No, no: let's keep on. He may be anxiously waiting for our help.”

”If we go on as we are, herr, we shall be too weak to help him if we find him,” said Melchior, seating himself; and Saxe sank beside him, and involuntarily leaned up against the st.u.r.dy fellow, who began to search his wallet, and brought out the remains of some bread and cheese, the greater part of which he offered to his companion.

”No, no, Melk: I can't eat,” he said.

”You must, herr--for his sake. Try.”

”A fair half, then,” said Saxe; and the guide smiled, and made a fresh division, which was slowly discussed every mouthful seeming to the boy as if it would choke him.

And as they ate the last faint light died away, and bright points of light began to twinkle overhead.

”It will be a bright night, thank Heaven!” said Melchior: ”the storm threats have pa.s.sed away. Hah! it begins to grow cold.”

”And I have made you worse,” said Saxe faintly, as he glanced at the sleeves of his companion's s.h.i.+rt.

”Oh, that's nothing, herr,” said the guide, stretching out his hands to feel Saxe's feet; and after bidding him sit fast, lifting the boy's feet across his own. ”Keep them there,” he said: ”they will be warmer while we rest; they were getting wet, and we must not have your feet frozen.”

”Does it freeze?” said Saxe drowsily.

”Yes, herr, sharply up here, as soon as the sun goes down. Now, you must not think me heartless if I light my pipe. Then we will start on again.”

”Oh no: light it, Melk, and let us start again,” said Saxe in a whisper.

The guide rapidly filled and lit his pipe, for his long experience told him that Saxe must not sit long in the condition he was; and rising and resuming his hold of his trusty axe, he said sharply--

”Now, herr, forward!”

Saxe looked up at him in a dazed way, but did not stir.

”I was afraid so,” muttered the guide, as he picked up the boy's ice-axe and stuck it through his belt. Then drawing the rope from beneath him, he threw it over his shoulder and went down on his knees just in front of his companion.

”Now, herr,” he said imperatively: ”put your arms round my neck.”

”What for? what are you going to do?” faltered Saxe helplessly.

”Only give you a lift, my boy, till you are a bit rested.”

”But--” began Saxe, protesting feebly.

”Your hands! Quick!” cried Melchior; and seizing one he drew Saxe forward, the other hand followed, and the guide staggered to his feet, s.h.i.+fted and shuffled his load into an easier position, and then getting his hands beneath his legs, as Saxe involuntarily clasped his arms about the man's stout neck, he began his perilous descent--perilous, for now he had to trust entirely to his feet and balance himself cautiously as he started off in the gathering darkness downward toward the nearest vale.

”Are you comfortable?” he asked; but Saxe did not reply.

”It was quite time, poor lad,” muttered Melchior. ”The warmth from my body will keep him alive, and, Heaven helping me, I may get safely down below the snow. If I can do that, I must find a place where I can make a fire. Now, lad, you call yourself a guide: make for the nearest bit of forest, and save this poor boy's life. But it's a hard task--a hard task, and you need all your strength and knowledge now.”

It was indeed a hard task, and again and again he nearly fell headlong; but by the exercise of his wonderful activity and strength, he always recovered himself, took a fresh breath, and descended steadily over the frozen snow, which grew more rugged and difficult at every turn.

”But I must do it--must do it,” the man kept on muttering; and he toiled on down till the bottom of the slope was reached, and here the piled-up new ice proved more difficult than ever; and it was not till an hour had pa.s.sed from his reaching the bottom of the slip, that he thoroughly left behind the last trace of the avalanche.