Part 12 (1/2)

We may not, however, prolong our remarks on the subject of ice-rivers at this time. Our travellers at Chamouni are getting ready to start, and it is our duty at present to follow them.

CHAPTER TEN.

THE FIRST EXCURSION.

”A Splendid morning!” exclaimed Dr George Lawrence, as he entered the _Salle a manger_ with an obviously new alpenstock in his hand.

”Jolly!” replied Lewis Stoutley, who was stooping at the moment to b.u.t.ton one of his gaiters.

Lewis was addicted to slang, not by any means an uncommon characteristic of youth!

”The man,” he said, with some bitterness, ”who invented big b.u.t.tons and little b.u.t.ton-holes should have had his nose skewered with a b.u.t.ton-hook. He was an a.s.s!”

In order to relieve his feelings and accomplish his ends, Lewis summarily enlarged the holes with his penknife.

”And _round_ b.u.t.tons, too,” he said, indignantly; ”what on earth was the use of making round b.u.t.tons when flat ones had been invented? A big hole and a flat b.u.t.ton will hold against anything--even against Scotch whins and heather. There, now, that abominable job is done.”

”You are fond of strong language, Lewie,” said Lawrence, as he examined the spike at the end of his alpenstock.

”I am. It relieves my feelings.”

”But don't you think it weakens your influence on occasions when nothing but strong language will serve? You rob yourself of the power, you know, to increase the force of it.”

”Oh bother! don't moralise, man, but let's have your opinion of the weather, which is an all-important subject just now.”

”I have already given my opinion as to that,” said Lawrence, ”but here comes one who will give us an opinion of value.--He is in capital time.”

”Good morning, Antoine.”

Their guide for the day, Antoine Grennon, a fine stalwart specimen of his cla.s.s, returned the salutation, and added that it was a very fine morning.

”Capital, isn't it?” cried Lewis, cheerfully, for he had got over the irritation caused by the b.u.t.tons. ”Couldn't be better; could it?”

The guide did not admit that the weather could not be better.

”You look doubtful, Antoine,” said Lawrence. ”Don't you think the day will keep up?”

”Keep up!” exclaimed Lewis; ”why, the sky is perfectly clear. Of course it will. I never saw a finer day, even in England. Why do you doubt it, Antoine?”

The guide pointed to a small cloud that hung over the brow of one of the higher peaks.

”Appearances are sometimes deceitful in this country,” he said. ”I don't doubt the fineness of the day at present, but--”

He was interrupted here by the sudden and noisy entrance of Captain Wopper and the Professor, followed by the mad artist, whose name, by the way, was Slingsby.

”No, no,” said the Captain to the Professor, with whom he had already become very intimate, ”it won't do to part company. If the Jardang is too far for the ladies, we will steer for the Mairdygla.s.s, an' cross over to the what's-'is-name--”

”Chapeau,” said the Professor.

”Ah! the shappo,” continued the Captain, ”and so down by the glacier dez boys--”