SAXE HAS SUSPICIONS.

"Do we go the same way?" said Saxe, as they started up the track out of the valley, Gros far more heavily laden this time--having, beside food enough for some days, a handy tent just large enough to shelter three; waterproof sheet, rugs, ice-axes, and a coil of new English rope which made the guide's eyes glisten.

"No, herr," Melchior answered--"only for a short distance. Then we shall strike up to the east and go over the Carvas Pa.s.s into the Urs Thal."

"Urseren?" said Dale quickly.

"Oh no, herr! not a bleak green hollow like that, but a wild ravine in the heart of the mountain. It lies next but one to the valley beyond the peak you climbed."

"Ah! that sounds better. Is it much visited?"

"Never, herr, except by the chamois hunters, and very seldom by them."

"And you think we shall find what I want there?"

"I cannot say, herr. Such crystals as you seek are not often discovered. They are very rare. But we shall see. Steady, Gros, steady! Don't hurry, boy. Slow and sure: these stones are slippery."

"Slippery! Yes," cried Dale, stepping forward quickly, and then giving a glance up to right and left at the walls of rock rising on either side. "Look at this, Saxe: we must not pa.s.s things like these without notice. Wait a minute, Melchior."

"Yes, herr; but there are bigger and smoother pieces farther up the valley."

"Do they extend far?"

"Right up to the top of the pa.s.s, herr, and down the other side."

Saxe looked over at the huge ma.s.s of smoothly polished stone across which the mule had been picking its way, taking longer steps to get its hoofs on the narrow cracks and places where veins of a softer kind of rock had in the course of ages corroded away.

"Why, I thought you said that very few people came along here?" said Saxe suddenly, as Dale bent down here and there to examine the stone.

"I did, herr. n.o.body uses this pa.s.s. There is no need. It is very difficult, and leads away up to the everlasting snow."

"Then, Melchior, how is it that the stones are worn so much?"

The guide shook his head.

"It is as if a river had run along here," he said. "I suppose it is the rain that has slowly worn it so."

"No," said Dale, with the voice of authority, "it is the ice."

"No, herr; there is no ice here. A great deal of snow comes down from the great stock up yonder, and from the valley between Piz Accio and Piz Nero, here on the right--avalanches of snow. We could not walk along here in March; it would be madness. But it soon wastes, and is washed away."

"No, Melchior, it is not snow or water that has smoothed all this, but ice. There must have been a huge glacier all along here."

The guide shook his head.

"Look, man," cried Dale, "it is written on the stones;" and he pointed to those beneath them, and then to others high up, which presented the same appearance.

"The stones and rocks are worn smooth, herr; but I never heard my father or grandfather speak of ice in this valley."

"No," said Dale quietly, "and your grandfather never heard his ancestors speak of it, nor they in turn, right back to the most remote times of history; but, all the same, a huge glacier must have filled the whole of this valley, sixty or seventy feet above where we stand."

"A very long time ago, then, herr."

"Who can say how many ages? Glaciers shrink and melt away in time. The one in the other valley has retired a good deal."

"Ah, yes, herr--hundreds of yards. Old people say it once came nearly to Andregg's chalet."

"To be sure; and how do the rocks look where it has retired?"

"Rubbed smooth, like this, herr."

"Of course; and there is no denying this fact. It must have been a mighty glacier indeed."

They went after the mule up the valley, content to follow the animal's guidance; and invariably, as Melchior pointed out, Gros picked out the best path. As they went right on the valley contracted, and the sides, which towered up more and more perpendicularly, displayed the peculiar, smooth, polished look, just as if ma.s.ses of stone had constantly ground against their sides.

"Now, Saxe, look here," cried Dale, suddenly pausing by a great ma.s.s of grey stone. "Here is a proof that I am right."

"Is it? I don't see."

"Do you, Melchior?"

"No, herr. The stone is very big."

"Yes. How did it come here?"

"Oh, it must have rolled down from the rock up yonder."

"If it had rolled down from the rock up yonder, it would have been a piece of that rock!"

"Of course, herr. Here are plenty of pieces," and he touched them with the handle of his ice-axe.

"Yes, you are right," said Dale, picking up a great fragment; "and you can see this is the same kind of stone as that which towers up here over our heads."

"Yes, herr."

"But this great block is a different kind of stone, is it not!"

Melchior looked at the vast ma.s.s, and said at once:

"Yes, herr, of course. It is the grey hard stone that they use for building bridges."

"Well, where did it come from! There is none up here to right or left."

"No, herr--none."

"It could not have been brought here by man."

Melchior laughed.