"Hah!" he exclaimed, as he got up and began to fumble for his pipe and matches.

"Risen much?" Dale's eyes said, as he turned them upon the guide.

"No, herr. Heaven be praised! The water is down a hand's breadth since I looked last. It is falling fast."

Dale turned sharply round and caught Saxe's hand, wringing it so hard that he gave him pain. Then, extending his hand to Melchior, the guide took it and held it for a few moments in silence.

"Yes, herr," he said cheerily; then, "I dare say we shall be through in an hour. The waters flow swiftly, and once the flood is pa.s.sed the lake soon gets down again. But I'm sorry poor old Gros is gone."

"I will pay Andregg handsomely for his loss," said Dale quickly; but the guide shook his head.

"No money will pay for the loss of old friends, herr. Gros has been looked upon as a companion by Andregg for these many years. It will be a bitter thing to go and say he is dead."

He was silent for a few minutes. Then, raising his voice, he said loudly:

"It seems strange to you English gentlemen; but you come from great cities where people are many, and you can hardly count your friends.

Out here in the deep thals, where men are shut up by the snow for weeks together, with only their cows and mules and goats, they grow to look upon the animals about them as friends, just as the poor animals themselves look to their masters for their care, and run to them for help and shelter when the great storms come down. Why, herr, you have seen they live in part of the house. The chalet is built up with a warm shelter beneath for the little flock or herd. Poor Gros! Andregg will nearly break his heart; and," added the guide simply, "he will not even have the consolation of saving the skin."

This last notion, in the reaction he felt, sounded so droll to Saxe that he turned away his head for fear the guide should see him smile.

But Melchior saw nothing; and stooping down again, he rose.

"Going down very fast, herr. In another hour I think we may venture to start again."

The torrent tore along so furiously that in the time specified the little party made a start, and then paused again as they reached the place where the ledge descended into the water. For the stream rushed along heavily as Melchior began to wade; and he once more uncoiled and pa.s.sed the rope.

"It is heavy going," he shouted; "but every minute it will be better, for after a little while the path rises quite high."

They started again, and Saxe felt his heart beat heavily as the water rose to his knees and he could feel its soft strong push against him; but he forgot all this the next moment, on hearing Melchior give vent to his feelings in a long, loud jodel, which sounded strange enough in the awful rift, with an accompaniment of the noise of rushing waters, but not half so strange as the curious whinnying half-squeal, half-neigh, that came back from a little way ahead.

For there, dimly-seen, was the mule, standing just as they had left him; and as they approached he signified his joy by a very near approach to a bray.

"And you said you saw him swept by!" cried Dale.

"I saw a leg and a bit of back," said Melchior; "but it might have belonged to any poor drowned beast swept out of the lake. Why, Gros!

old Gros!" he cried, wading up to the mule, "this is the grandest sight I've had these many days!" while the mule literally squealed and stamped, sending the water flying in its delight at hearing human voices again.

But a good hour pa.s.sed before the cautious animal--as if a.s.sured by its own instinct that the way was safe--began to advance, and in a short time was upon the clear ledge, trudging steadily along, Melchior following with his load, till the bright daylight was seen ahead, and they came to a halt on the platform whence Gros had fallen and dragged in his leader.

The rest of the journey was easily performed, Gros bearing his lightened load on along the edge of the lake, and past the place where Dale had searched for gold, till the vale at the foot of the great glacier was neared, when the mule set up a loud squealing, which was answered by the donkey's bray and a lowing from the cows.

Then Melchior jodelled, and it was responded to from the chalet, where Andregg, his wife, and Pierre were standing watching, and ready to prepare a comfortable meal and usher Gros into the shelter in the lower part of the place.

In another hour Saxe was lying upon his bed of sweet-scented hay half asleep, thinking of all he had gone through since he last lay there, and ready to ask himself whether it was not all a dream. Then suddenly consciousness failed, and he was really in the land of dreams.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

SAXE TAKES A SHOWER-BATH.

The musical tinkling of bells roused Saxe at daybreak; and, as he listened to the pleasant sound produced by quite a large herd of goats, their leader's horn was heard from time to time collecting stragglers who were disposed to stop at intervals to begin breakfasting on the way.

"We haven't done much in finding crystals yet," thought Saxe, as he lay.

"I wonder what he means to do this morning. I feel as if I should like a day or two's rest; but I don't know--I'm not so very tired."

He lay very still for a few minutes, listening to the tinkling chime of the goat-bells, gradually growing more distant as their wearers made their way up the side of the valley; and as he listened he could tell as well as if he were watching when one of the goats broke away from the herd and leaped and bounded among the rocks to some tempting patch of young green gra.s.s,--for there was a sudden splash, so to speak, in the stream of sound; and again when two or three young kids rose on their hind legs and b.u.t.ted and danced at each other.

The picture Saxe painted in his mind made him restless, and the morning love of another half-hour being chased away, he determined to rise and get out in the clear, fresh air.

"Time they woke up," thought Saxe at last, as the pale dawn stole in through the c.h.i.n.ks. "Tired, I suppose."

He lay listening now to the low murmuring sound of the cowbells, whose chime was silvery and pleasant, and trembled and vibrated in the air; and again he pictured the soft-eyed, meek, lowing creatures, slowly picking their way among the great mossy stones which had been tumbled down from the mountain.

"Oh, I sha'n't lie here any longer," said Saxe to himself. "I say!" he cried: "Mr Dale! Ahoy! It's to-morrow morning. Oh, what a noddle I am!" he muttered. "It's broad daylight, Mr Dale. Are you coming for a dip?"

No answer.

"I say, Mr Dale! Time to get up."

All was silent, and Saxe raised himself on his elbow and peered through the darkness at the heap of hay beside him.

"He must have been tired last night," he muttered, "and old Melk too. I say, Mr Dale! do you know what you say to me sometimes?"

"No: that he doesn't," thought Saxe. "He is sleeping fast, and if I wake him he'll turn rusty. I don't care. Here--hi! Mr Dale.

Breakfast!"

Still no reply.

"Oh, I must rouse him," cried Saxe, and, springing up, he went to where his companion slept, and then gave the hay an angry kick.

"What a shame!" he cried. "I do call that shabby. They've been up ever so long, and gone somewhere without me. It's too bad!"

He hurried out of the great loft-like place, and encountered the sour-looking man Pierre.

"Here!" he cried, in atrociously bad German, bolstered up and patched with English: "where's the herr, and where's Melchior?"

Pierre, whose hair was full of sc.r.a.ps of hay, took off his cap and scratched his head.

"Where is the herr and where is the guide?" said Saxe, a little louder and with a worse p.r.o.nunciation.

Pierre opened his mouth, let his head hang forward, and stared at the lad in a heavy, stupid way.

"I say, William Tell," cried Saxe--in plain English now--"can't you understand your own language?"

The man stared more heavily than before.

"Regardez donc: parlez-vous Francais?"