The Crystal Hunters Part 73

"I'm nearly wearied out. Let's sit down on the rope for a few minutes."

"No, no: let's keep on. He may be anxiously waiting for our help."

"If we go on as we are, herr, we shall be too weak to help him if we find him," said Melchior, seating himself; and Saxe sank beside him, and involuntarily leaned up against the st.u.r.dy fellow, who began to search his wallet, and brought out the remains of some bread and cheese, the greater part of which he offered to his companion.

"No, no, Melk: I can't eat," he said.

"You must, herr--for his sake. Try."

"A fair half, then," said Saxe; and the guide smiled, and made a fresh division, which was slowly discussed every mouthful seeming to the boy as if it would choke him.

And as they ate the last faint light died away, and bright points of light began to twinkle overhead.

"It will be a bright night, thank Heaven!" said Melchior: "the storm threats have pa.s.sed away. Hah! it begins to grow cold."

"And I have made you worse," said Saxe faintly, as he glanced at the sleeves of his companion's s.h.i.+rt.

"Oh, that's nothing, herr," said the guide, stretching out his hands to feel Saxe's feet; and after bidding him sit fast, lifting the boy's feet across his own. "Keep them there," he said: "they will be warmer while we rest; they were getting wet, and we must not have your feet frozen."

"Does it freeze?" said Saxe drowsily.

"Yes, herr, sharply up here, as soon as the sun goes down. Now, you must not think me heartless if I light my pipe. Then we will start on again."

"Oh no: light it, Melk, and let us start again," said Saxe in a whisper.

The guide rapidly filled and lit his pipe, for his long experience told him that Saxe must not sit long in the condition he was; and rising and resuming his hold of his trusty axe, he said sharply--

"Now, herr, forward!"

Saxe looked up at him in a dazed way, but did not stir.

"I was afraid so," muttered the guide, as he picked up the boy's ice-axe and stuck it through his belt. Then drawing the rope from beneath him, he threw it over his shoulder and went down on his knees just in front of his companion.

"Now, herr," he said imperatively: "put your arms round my neck."

"What for? what are you going to do?" faltered Saxe helplessly.

"Only give you a lift, my boy, till you are a bit rested."

"But--" began Saxe, protesting feebly.

"Your hands! Quick!" cried Melchior; and seizing one he drew Saxe forward, the other hand followed, and the guide staggered to his feet, s.h.i.+fted and shuffled his load into an easier position, and then getting his hands beneath his legs, as Saxe involuntarily clasped his arms about the man's stout neck, he began his perilous descent--perilous, for now he had to trust entirely to his feet and balance himself cautiously as he started off in the gathering darkness downward toward the nearest vale.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked; but Saxe did not reply.

"It was quite time, poor lad," muttered Melchior. "The warmth from my body will keep him alive, and, Heaven helping me, I may get safely down below the snow. If I can do that, I must find a place where I can make a fire. Now, lad, you call yourself a guide: make for the nearest bit of forest, and save this poor boy's life. But it's a hard task--a hard task, and you need all your strength and knowledge now."

It was indeed a hard task, and again and again he nearly fell headlong; but by the exercise of his wonderful activity and strength, he always recovered himself, took a fresh breath, and descended steadily over the frozen snow, which grew more rugged and difficult at every turn.

"But I must do it--must do it," the man kept on muttering; and he toiled on down till the bottom of the slope was reached, and here the piled-up new ice proved more difficult than ever; and it was not till an hour had pa.s.sed from his reaching the bottom of the slip, that he thoroughly left behind the last trace of the avalanche.

What had been simple mountaineering work in the bright suns.h.i.+ne, when free and able to pick the way, became terrible now in the mountain, where the path was always rugged, but often such that a moment's hesitation or a slip might mean death for both. But Melchior's feet seemed by long habit to have grown accustomed to danger, and to have been educated into joining in the protection of him they bore, so that, in spite of the darkness and danger, Melchior got down lower and lower, and by degrees worked himself into the track he had followed in the morning in guiding his companions up the peak.

Here he was more at home, and able to think out how he could best pa.s.s round that ledge and creep by this angle before he reached it. Saxe did not speak, but hung upon his back perfectly inert--a terrible load at such a time; but the guide made no mental complaint,--simply toiled on slowly enough for a couple of hours; then, thinking of a certain nook in the mountain just below the snow-line where there was a good-sized clump of dwarfed and distorted pines, he decided to stop there for the night, sheltered from the icy wind with a good elastic heap of pine boughs for their bed and coverlet, and a roaring fire to add to their warmth.

"The task will be easy enough to-morrow," he said; and then, thinking sorrowfully of Dale, he kept on with his slow, careful tramp down the mountain side.

It was as if that clump of pines would never be reached, and there were moments when he was ready to think that he must have missed them; but a glance to left or right at the rocks towering up into the sky sufficed to convince him that he was still on the right track, for he knew them by heart, and, giving his load a fresh s.h.i.+ft, he toiled on again, hot, exhausted, but full of determination.

Now and then he spoke to Saxe, but there was no reply; and more than once he felt disposed to let his burden glide down on to the rock and have a short rest, but he always shook his head and went on downward, thanking Providence that he was below all the parts which necessitated clinging; and at last, when so utterly wearied out that his pace was a mere crawl, he reached the pines, threaded his way in, and lowered Saxe down. Then, setting rapidly to work, he soon brought together a quant.i.ty of dead wood, and started a fire with a few handfuls of pine needles piled on the small boughs to shed its warmth upon the boy's half-frozen feet.

This done, he cut and broke down bough after bough, making of them a soft, elastic bed near the fire, and dragging Saxe into a better position before cutting other pieces with his axe and laying them together like the ridge of a roof over his companion's head.

"He'll soon be warm there," muttered Melchior: "no fear of freezing now."

The wood was rapidly piled on the fire, for there was abundance beneath the pines; and at last, after bending down and satisfying himself as to Saxe's condition, Melchior prepared to creep in and lie down by his side, but, on second thoughts, seated himself by the fire to enjoy its warm glow. But he was too uneasy to stay there long; and, creeping back to Saxe, he laid his hand upon the boy's breast.

"Asleep, herr?" he said gently.

"Asleep?" said the boy confusedly: "I--I suppose I have been; but I'm giddy, and my head--Melchior--Melchior! why are we here? Have you found Mr Dale?"

The guide was silent for a few moments. Then, in a low, hoa.r.s.e voice, he said sadly--

"No, herr; and it seems impossible to search farther."

"Oh, Melchior!"

"It is true, herr. Your life was in danger, and it was all I could do to bring you down in safety."

"Bring me down?" faltered Saxe. "I do not understand."

"No, herr; we do not understand when we are insensible. You do not remember my carrying you down the mountain on my back?"

"I? No: of course not! You could not have done so."

The guide laughed softly, and drew the tough pine boughs more over Saxe.

"Are you warm?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so; but we must get up and go in search of Mr Dale."

"We cannot go to-night, without lanthorns and help. Do you think I should stay here without trying, if it were possible to save Mr Dale's life?"

"What's that!" moaned Saxe just at that moment; for a shrill cry came from a distance, followed by a jodel, which Melchior answered as he stood aside from the fire so as to try and pierce the darkness of the slope below them.

The jodel was given again, and answered.

"There is help coming, young herr," cried the guide excitedly, as he shaded his eyes from the fire: "men with lanthorns. Who can they be?"

he muttered to himself. "Smugglers? No, for the jodel was Pierre's, and the cry was like that of Andregg. Why are they coming here?"