"Why!--oh, how it hurts! You've left my legs in the hole! No," he added, as he struggled into a sitting position and looked down,--"only my boots."

"I'll bind some cloth round them directly, herr. We can get other boots."

"But--I feel--just as if I had no legs at all," said Saxe excitedly.

"Not broken, are they?"

"No, herr: only a little numbed with the cold and pressure. There, I am better now. I'll chafe them before I bind up your feet."

"You couldn't get out my boots?"

"No, herr--not for many hours: we must not wait for that;" and he knelt down now, and after rapidly chafing the half-dead limbs to bring back the circulation, he took string from his pocket, cut off both sleeves of his jacket, and then cleverly tied the wrists, and drew them on to the boy's legs, where he bound them with the string, forming a pair of boots and stockings in one.

"Why, Melk, you've made me look like an Italian brigand," cried Saxe pitifully, as he stood up and looked down at his cross-gartered legs.

"Oh! I can hardly stand. But now we are wasting time: let's find Mr Dale."

"Yes," said Melchior, drawing a long deep breath: "let's try and find Mr Dale."

"Which way shall we go?" said Saxe, painfully picking up his axe and looking hopelessly around over the white waste where the snow lay, now compressed into waves of ice, and looking like portions of a glacier.

There was no answer to his question, and he looked at the guide, who stood leaning upon his ice-axe.

"Well!" cried Saxe; and Melchior started and faced him. "I was trying to think, herr," he said. "We were all separated at the first slip of the snow. I held on to you for a few moments, but you were s.n.a.t.c.hed from me, and I saw no more, till I found myself far below yonder. I had been buried twice; but the snow as it rolled over thrust me forth again, and I was able to struggle out."

"Then you have no idea where Mr Dale can be?" Melchior shook his head sadly.

"It was a mistake, sir," he said. "I ought to have known better than to cross such a treacherous slope. I did know better, but I suffered myself to be overruled, and now in the face of all this terrible misfortune I feel helpless. What can one man do when great Nature fights against him as she does here?"

Saxe looked wildly round again, to see that before long it would be dusk, for the snow was fast turning grey, and the peaks alone were ruddy with the sinking sun.

The boy shivered from cold and nervous shock, as he gazed at the weird-looking rocks and the folded snow, and then, grasping at Melchior's arm, he said pitifully: "Don't tell me you think he is buried."

"No, herr," cried the guide, rousing himself: "I will not say that, for there is still hope. He may have been carried right away below us by the loose upper snow, which went on, while the lower part soon stopped by getting pressed together into ice. But it is impossible to say. We must do something; it will soon be dark, and you have no strength left now."

"I have!" cried the boy excitedly; "and I can help you now. Shout: perhaps he may be within hearing."

The guide shrugged his shoulders and shook his head; but he gave forth a long, loud mountaineer's call, which was repeated plainly from far away above him.

Then again, and again, and again; but there were only the echoes to respond.

"Let's look about," cried Saxe, in a voice which told of his despair; but even as he spoke the guide had started off after a few minutes'

consideration, and the boy followed up and up, painfully, slowly, slipping, climbing and drawing himself forward from time to time by driving the pick of his axe into the ice.

For there was very little snow to traverse here: by the slip it had been almost entirely turned into ice, and the difficulties of the climb so increased that from time to time Saxe had to stop utterly exhausted.

"Why are we going up here?" he said on one of these occasions.

"To get as near as I can guess to where we were when the snow-slide began, herr. Shall I go on alone?"

"No--no! don't leave me!" cried Saxe excitedly.

"The herr might depend upon my return," said Melchior.

"Yes: I was not thinking of that, but of my being able to help. How much farther is it?"

"About five minutes, herr--not more. You can see for yourself that we must be quite close to the position now. Rested?"

Saxe nodded, and wishing fervently for the guide's strength, he toiled on again behind him, till at last they stood upon the bare rock swept clear of the snow, and any doubt of its being where the mishap befel them was quite removed by their coming suddenly upon quite a wall of snow standing many feet above their heads, and running far enough to right and left in a jagged line, as if a flash of lightning had darted across and made the division.

Saxe's lips parted to speak, but the guide held up his hand.

"Not a word, herr," he whispered. "We might have another fall."

Saxe looked up and shuddered, for the snow far above them seemed as if it might come down at any moment; and after looking sharply from left to right, he gladly followed Melchior as he went cautiously toward the upper rocks for a couple of dozen yards.

"Here is where we must have been," he said; "and from this spot we ought to start back if we are to find the herr."

Saxe nodded, for he could not trust himself to speak. It was all too terrible; and the thought of Dale being imprisoned somewhere near, held fast as he had been, seemed far worse than anything he had himself gone through.

Melchior started back directly, as if from instinct; and, unable to do more, Saxe followed him till he halted.

"It is blind work, herr," he whispered. "There is no clue to guide one.

He was suddenly swept away from us; and who can say whether we may not be going from him all this time, instead of following him up?"

"Oh, Melchior!" cried Saxe piteously.

"Not so loud, herr--not so loud. It sounds cruel to say so--hard to you; but I am obliged to be honest with you, and say that I see no hope of our finding him alive."

A sob escaped from Saxe's breast, but his face looked cold and hard.

"You might have said the same about me," he whispered back; "but I am here."

"Yes, herr; but then you were able to make some sign of being alive. We have shouted and looked about for a long time now, but have heard nothing of poor Mr Dale, and my heart is growing cold about him."

"Oh, don't say that!" cried Saxe. "It is too horrible. We must--we will find him. Perhaps he is quite buried under the snow."

Saxe's last words made the guide turn and look at him curiously; but he said no word, only kept on walking down slowly toward the foot of the slope, sweeping his eyes over the way they traversed from side to side, his keen glance taking in the slightest thing, and making him hurry away to carefully examine places where the snow and ice lay high or more ragged; but they kept on with their difficult descent, and saw nothing that afforded them a clue to Dale's whereabouts.

"Oh, we must have help to search the place well!" cried Saxe in agony.

"It will soon be too dark to see anything, and we are so useless alone."

"Yes, herr," said the guide sadly; "but it will take six hours to get people here at the very least, and I don't like to go away while there is the least chance of our finding him."

"You are right," sighed Saxe; "while we were gone for help he might be perishing, and we could have saved him. We must stop and search till we drop."

That seemed as if it would not be long first, as far as the boy was concerned. He had apparently forgotten the numbness of his limbs and the peril through which he had pa.s.sed, and in spite of the roughness of the ice and snow he continued to get over it in his extemporised sandals, which had the advantage of not slipping. But the day's toil had been excessive before the accident; and though his spirits had kept him up so far, the time was fast approaching when exhaustion would conquer.

Melchior knew it, and after glancing at Saxe as he tottered once and nearly fell, he went on for a few minutes before speaking and hurting the boy's feelings by telling him that it was because of his weariness, then suddenly drew up, took off and threw down his rope.

"One can't go on for ever without getting strength, herr," he said.