She was disappointed, however. n.o.body seemed to think it worth their while to undertake one. Presently Fordham said--

"It has often been remarked that we are not a logical nation. Hardly a day pa.s.ses without emphasising that fact to the ordinarily wide-awake observer."

"How so? Please explain. I don't quite follow you," said Miss Severn, briskly, fiercely elate that her challenge had been taken up.

"Well, we British are perennially grumbling at our abominably cold climate--winter all the year round, and so forth; and yet during the few weeks of summer vouchsafed to us away we rush to places like this, and stow ourselves as close to the snow and ice as we possibly can."

"I--I really don't see the connection," said the would-be debater, in tart mystification. "Isn't that rather a pointless remark--not to say irrelevant?"

"Oh, no. If anything, the reverse," answered Fordham, tranquilly. "The idea was suggested by seeing several of us shiver, and it naturally occurred to me that we had probably sat as long as was safe if we wanted to avoid catching cold. For present purposes it may be taken to mean that we should be wise to think of going down, still wiser to go down and take the thinking as thought. What do you say, General?"

"I agree with you, Fordham. It doesn't do to sit too long in this sharp air, after getting heated coming up, too."

So the wisdom of the elders prevailed, and the party started upon the homeward way. Philip having found a long, steep snow-shoot, preferred the risky delights of a _glissade_ to the more sober and gradual descent of a series of zig-zags. But the snow was soft, with the result that when half-way the adventurous one went head over heels, convulsing with mirth those who witnessed his frantic flounderings from the security of the zig-zag footpath aforesaid. Meanwhile the two erudite damsels were confiding to the parson their rooted conviction that Fordham was the most abominably disagreeable man they had ever met--which view, however, being that of the bulk of their s.e.x on the same subject, was neither original nor striking.

And then as they gained the level of the glacier once more, again the wily Phil managed to pair off--to straggle indeed considerably from the main body--to straggle away almost to the base of the huge cliffs of the Grand Cornier. Here creva.s.ses began to open in all directions--real ones, yawning black in the glistening surface.

"By Jove! look at that!" cried Phil, as a huge rift came into view right across the way they were following. It was overhung by a wreath of frozen snow, and the "lip" thus formed was fringed and festooned with gleaming icicles. It was a lovely and at the same time forbidding spectacle, as the sunlight fell upon the myriad smooth needles of ice-- catching the star-like facets in gleaming scintillation--playing upon the translucent walls of the chasm in many a prismatic ray--roseate and gold, and richest azure. Then, below, the black, cold depths, as of the bottomless pit.

"It is splendid, but gruesome," said Alma, peering tentatively into the silent depths--a process which needed a steadying, not to say supporting, hand. "I wonder how deep it is."

"It's a pity, in the interests of science--but on that ground alone-- that we haven't got our two learned friends along," said Philip, proceeding to roll a big stone, of which there were several on the surface of the glacier, to the brink. "They could locate the depth by the time it takes to fall. Now, listen!"

He rolled over the stone. It was a large one, and spoke volumes for his excellent condition that he was able to move it at all. There was a crash and a shatter like the breaking of gla.s.s, as it crushed through the fringe of icicles--then a long pause, followed by a far-away and hollow clang.

"What an awful depth," said Alma, with a shudder, instinctively drawing back. "Wait!" warned Philip. "There it goes again!" Another clang-- this time very faint, together with a ghostly rumbling roar as the prisoned echo strove to break free--told that the creva.s.se was of appalling depth, even if its bottom was yet reached. The listeners looked at each other.

"Not much chance once over this little bit of crushed snow," said Philip, breaking away the overhanging edge with the end of his ice-axe.

"Horrible!" rejoined Alma, with a shudder. "Now I think we had better go back to the others, for it seems to me we are getting more and more in among the creva.s.ses, and it must be a trifle dangerous."

It was even as she said. The whole surface of the glacier was seamed and criss-crossed with yawning rifts--many of them like the one before them--of unknown depth. To a fairly experienced man, and one of average gumption withal, the situation would have held no obstacle. To such the lay of the glacier would have been understood, and he could have threaded his way to safer ground without difficulty. But Philip was not experienced in Alpine features, and there was just a little too much of the bull-at-a-gate about his disposition for him to supplement this lack by ordinary prudence. So they got deeper and deeper into the labyrinth--and moreover the sun was already shut out behind the towering mountain walls rearing up immediately overhead.

Under these circ.u.mstances neither of the pair was sorry to hear a shout, and to make out a figure approaching at some distance over the ice.

"It's Fordham," cried Phil. "He'll show us the right line. He's about as good as a professional guide."

Not the least lovable trait in Philip Orlebar's character was his perfect readiness to yield to another's superior knowledge, and this he was wont to do, not grudgingly or as one making a concession, but fully, frankly, and as a matter of course. It did not, for instance, occur to him that his fortnight of knocking about among the mountains and glaciers in the neighbourhood of Zinal--said knocking about being mostly in picnic fashion, as in the present case--had rendered his experience a trifle superior to that of Fordham, who had done a good deal of serious Alpine climbing in times past; and in stating this we are not dealing with so obvious a truism as the uninitiated would a.s.sume. For to many of his age and temperament that very thing would have occurred, and does occur, not infrequently to their own ultimate discomfiture if not disaster. We speak of that which we know.

Philip therefore hailed the advent of his friend with genuine pleasure, not to say relief. But the other in no wise reciprocated that warming sentiment. He didn't see any fun in coming about two miles out of his way--and towards the end of the day, too--in order to benefit two people whom he had every reason to suppose would be wishing him in Halifax all the time.

"Tired of life already, Miss Wyatt?" he said sourly, as he came up, pointing to a great black creva.s.se the two were gingerly skirting. "Or do you want to antic.i.p.ate death, and defeating his ravages and decay, ensure remaining beautiful for ever, although within the depths of a glacier?"

"What a weird style of compliment," answered Alma, with a little laugh.

"But any sort of compliment coming from Mr Fordham should be duly treasured."

"Well, there's a far weirder fact underlying it. Look here! If you knew there were half a dozen even indifferent shots posted behind yonder _seracs_ practising at you with rifles, I believe you'd think your run of life was held on exceedingly frail and uncertain tenure. Well, left to yourselves here, the same tenure is a good deal more uncertain than it would be under the other contingency--you two poor greenhorns."

"Oh, come; I say, Fordham?" exclaimed Philip, deprecatorily. But Alma broke into a ringing laugh.

"You think it a laughing matter, do you?" went on Fordham. "Now you wouldn't think that a dozen steps further of the line you're following would perform your own funerals? You'd never be seen again."

"Now you're cramming us, old chap," said Philip, airily, surveying the white unbroken surface in front.

"Am I? Very well. Now, look."

He counted exactly ten paces forward, then halted, advanced half a pace, and holding his ice-axe by the head, drove the point into the surface.

In it went without resistance, as far as he allowed it to, which was almost to the head. Then working it round he made a hole about half a yard in diameter.

"Come, now, and look." He went on cautiously knocking away more of the snow-crust.

They obeyed, and in a moment were peering through the hole into black depths. The sheeny surface of the opposite ice-wall glared at them through the aperture as with the disappointed glare of the eye of some evil beast baulked of its prey.

"By Jove!" cried Philip, aghast. "You never spoke a truer word, Fordham. There would have been an end of us, sure enough. But I say, old chap, how on earth did you know there was a creva.s.se there--a dev--, hum--I mean an awful one it is, too? There's no sign or difference of colour in the surface."

"I knew that there was bound to be one by the lay of the land. Now look," he went on, pointing to the main creva.s.se, which yawned broadly parallel to the line they were pursuing, and out of which a lateral one sprung, and seeming to change its mind, had abruptly terminated-- apparently so, at any rate. "I knew that this other crack wasn't going to end there, although it seems to; it was too deep to start with.

Consequently I knew that it was bound to run a considerable way _under_ the surface, and so it does. A dozen more steps, I repeat, and one or both of you would have disappeared for ever."

"By Jove!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Phil again, in mingled admiration and dismay, while Alma shuddered, as she gazed into the ghastly death-trap with a horrible fascination.

"At the same time you're wrong in saying there is no sign or difference of colour in the surface," went on Fordham. "There is the last--faint I admit--but quite enough to catch a practised eye. And now, while we are prosing away here, the other people are waiting for us over on the _moraine_ yonder. So keep close behind me, and let's get out of this."

Under such able and experienced pilotage they soon got clear of the more dangerous part of the glacier--doubling and zigzaging in the most labyrinthine fashion to avoid perils hidden or displayed.

"You can't afford to go playing about among bottomless pits in any such careless way, Phil, still more among masked deathtraps like some of those we pa.s.sed," said Fordham, as they drew near their party. "So if you must go skylarking on dangerous ground, you'd better have some one with you who knows the ropes rather more than you do, and not rather less."

But this recollection of peril past added something of a spice to the keen enjoyment of a delightful day as they took their way homeward. And then, as they left the wild wilderness of rocks and ice behind, the great silent glaciers and piled ma.s.ses of rugged _moraine_, the westering sunlight flushing upon the soaring peaks as with a glow of fire, to these two it meant one more day closing as it had begun--in a golden unearthly beauty--closing into a brief night, which in its turn should soon melt into another glowing day, even as this one which had just fled. But--would it?

"Two people have arrived, sir," said the head waiter, meeting Philip in the hall. "Dey ask for you, sir, first thing. One gentleman and lady."

"Gentleman and lady?" echoed Phil, in amazement. "Who the deuce can it be? Who are they, Franz?"

"I not know, sir. Dey ask first for you; then they ask if we cannot send messenger to find you. I tell them you away to the Mountet cabin-- you come back quick as the messenger."

"The deuce! Who can it be? By Jove--of course! The governor and her ladyship! It'll be right good getting the old man out here. Don't know about her ladyship though," he parenthesised, dubiously. "Where are they, Franz?"

"Here we are, Philip," cried a masculine voice, which was certainly not that of Sir Francis Orlebar, and a hand dropped upon his shoulder with would-be cordiality.

The recipient of this unceremonious salute started as if he had been shot. Then he turned--turned with what cordiality he could muster, to confront the speaker.

The latter was an elderly man of portentous aspect, ruddy of countenance, and keen of eye. A thick white beard hid the lower half of his face, and a crop of bristling white hair adorned his summit, which last, however, was now concealed by a large pith helmet and puggaree.

He wore a great expanse of waistcoat, covering a redundancy of person which went far towards bearing out his sleek and aggressively prosperous appearance. He looked the sort of man who would be a law unto a roomful--the sort of man whose thumbs would oft seek the armholes of his waistcoat. He looked what he was--the prosperous, comfortable British merchant who had begun life a good deal lower down than that. But he did not look what he was not--viz, a gentleman.

"Why, how d'you do, Mr Glover?" blurted out Philip at last. "Who on earth would have thought of seeing you here?"

"Aha! who'd have thought it, indeed! But the little girl wouldn't give me any peace. Said you hadn't written to her for so long she didn't know what had become of you, and we'd better go and see. So we left the rest of them at St. Swithins and started off, and here we are. Why, where is she? Edie--where have you got to?"