The Crystal Hunters Part 17

"Nothing. We must follow the stream down. I dare say we shall find some shallows lower down. Come along quickly."

He began to descend.

"We must find him, Saxe, and then make the best of our way back for help. Poor fellow! I'd freely give all I possess to see him safe and sound."

"Then hurrah! Come up here, sir. Look! look!"

"What! you don't mean? Saxe, boy--speak!" cried Dale excitedly, trying to mount beside him.

"Hi! don't! You'll have me overboard!" shouted the boy, as the great block of stone rocked to such an extent that he nearly came down headlong. "Now, steady! Give me your hand."

The rock was kept in position now by the pressure on one side, but as Dale sprang up to Saxe's side, it began to rise again, and they had hard work to preserve their balance, as they stood straining their eyes to where they could see a man mounted upon some animal riding slowly across the green level lying in a loop of the stream.

"No, no," said Dale sadly, "that cannot be Melchior. It is some herdsman; but we'll go and meet him and get his help."

"It is Melchior," said Saxe decidedly.

"I would to Heaven it were, Saxe! Impossible! That man is a mile away.

Distances are deceptive."

"I don't care if he's a hundred miles away," cried Saxe; "it's old Melk, and he's safe."

"You are deceiving yourself, boy."

"I'm not, sir. I'm sure of it; and he's all right. You see!"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed off his hat, and began to wave it, bursting out at the same time into the most awful parody of a Swiss jodel that ever startled the mountains, and made them echo back the wild, weird sounds.

"There! Look!" cried Saxe excitedly, as the mounted man took off his hat, waved it in the air, and there floated toward them, faintly heard but beautifully musical, the familiar jodel they had heard before.

Then, as it ceased, it was repeated from the rocks to the right, far louder, and made more musical by the reaction nearer at hand.

"There!" cried Saxe, "what did I tell you?" and he capered about on the moving rock, waving his hat and shouting again, "I--o--a--a--de--ah-- diah--diah--Oh! Murder!"

Dale was in the act of saying, "Take care!" when the ma.s.s of stone careened over, and Saxe was compelled to take a flying leap downward on to another piece, off which he staggered ten feet lower, to come down with a crash.

"Hurt yourself!" cried Dale anxiously.

"Hurt myself, sir!" said Saxe reproachfully, as he scrambled up slowly: "just you try it and see. Oh my!" he continued rubbing himself, "ain't these stones hard!"

"Here,--give me your hand."

"Thankye. It's all right, only a bruise or two. I don't mind, now old Melk's safe."

"Don't deceive yourself, Saxe," said Dale sadly.

"What! Didn't you hear him jodel?"

"Yes, and you may hear every Swiss mountaineer we meet do that. You hailed him, and the man answered, and he is coming toward us," continued Dale, straining his eyes again to watch the slowly approaching figure.

"Bah! How absurd! I'm as bad as the sailor who put his cutla.s.s into his left hand, so that he could have his right free to knock an enemy down with his fist."

As he spoke, he dragged at the strap across his breast, took a little field-gla.s.s from the case, adjusted the focus, and levelled it at the distant figure.

"Hurrah, Saxe, you're right!" he cried, lowering the gla.s.s, seizing the boy's hand and wringing it vigorously.

"Hurrah! it is," cried Saxe; "I knew it. I could tell by the twist of that jolly old mule's head. I say, you owe me all you've got, Mr Dale.

When are you going to pay?"

"When you ask me as if you meant it, boy."

"Ah, then! I can't ask!" cried Saxe. "Let's have a look at Melk."

He took the gla.s.s extended to him, rested his back against a block of stone, and carefully examined the figure.

"I say, isn't he wet! You can see his clothes sticking to him. But, Mr Dale, what a swim he must have had. Ah--ae--e--oh--diah--di--ah-- diah--"

"Don't, boy, for goodness' sake!" cried Dale, clapping his hand over Saxe's lips. "If Gros hears that, he'll take fright and bolt."

"What, at my cry? That's jodelling I'm learning."

"Then practise your next lesson in a cornfield, when we get home. Any farmer would give you an engagement to keep off the crows."

"Oh, I say, Mr Dale!" cried Saxe, "you are too bad. Just you try whether you can do it any better."

"No, thanks," said Dale, laughing: "I am full of desire to learn all I can, but I think I shall make an exception with regard to the jodel.

Come along down, and let's meet him."

They descended the rock so as to get on to the rugged plain; and ten minutes after Melchior rode up on his bare-backed mule, soaking wet, and with the mule steaming; but otherwise, as far as they could see, neither was any the worse for the late adventure.

"Melk, old chap!" cried Saxe, seizing one hand.

"Melchior, my good fellow!" cried Dale, seizing the other; "I thought we'd lost you."

The guide's sombre face lit up, and his eyes looked moist as he returned the friendly grasp.

"Thank you, herrs," he said warmly, "thank you."

"But you are hurt," cried Dale.

"I thank you, no, herr; not much."

"But tell us," cried Saxe, who had been scanning him all the time, "where are you hurt?"

"Hurt? I am not hurt," said the guide quietly. "A few bruises and a lump on my head--that is all."

"But the mule,--he struck you down with his hoofs."

"It was more of a push, herr."

"But tell us--we thought you were drowned in that awful place."