The Crystal Hunters Part 39

"Yes," said the boy; and he stepped back also for a few yards, sprang and cleared the gap with a yard or so to spare. "What a place it would be to fall down, though!" said Saxe, as he began to tramp on over the snow by Dale's side. "I couldn't help thinking so as I flew over it."

"And very stupid of you too! There's no danger in leaping over a dry ditch four feet wide, so why should you make a fuss about the same distance because it is deep?"

Boom!

"Hallo!" said Dale. "That sounded like snow somewhere up in the mountains; and by the way, we're on snow now: Melchior ought to rope us.

How do we know there are not creva.s.ses close at hand?" He turned to speak to the guide, and found Saxe standing there staring back.

"Hallo!" he cried, "where's Melchior?"

"I don't know," faltered Saxe.

"Didn't you see him jump over the crack?"

"No. Didn't you?"

"It was such a trifle, I did not think of it. Good heavens! he has not met with an accident? Ah, that noise!"

They turned back together for about a hundred yards over the smooth snow, following their own steps clearly marked in the white surface; and then stopped short aghast, for the deeply indented place in the snow where they had landed in their jump was gone, and in its stead they saw a great triangular-shaped opening widening the creva.s.se to more than double its original dimensions, while just at its edge close to their feet there was a peculiar mark, such as would have been made by an ice-axe suddenly struck down through the snow to plough its way till it disappeared over the edge.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

A FEARFUL WATCH.

It was all plain enough now. The weight of the two who had first leaped must have cracked a portion of the edge of the creva.s.se--a part rotten from long exposure to the sun, rain and frost. Then Melchior must have sprung over, the great triangular piece had given way, he had made a desperate attempt to save himself with his axe, but that had not struck home, and he had gone down with the ma.s.s of ice and snow, the echoing crash and boom having drowned any cry he might have uttered, even if he had time to call for help.

Saxe gave one horrified look at his companion, and then, stepping aside to the unbroken part of the creva.s.se, he went down on his hands and knees in the snow, then upon his breast, and drew himself close to the edge till his head and chest were over and he could peer down.

"Take care! take care!" cried Dale hoa.r.s.ely, though he was doing precisely the same. "Can you see anything?"

Saxe's negative sounded like a groan, for he could see nothing but the pale blue sides of the ice going down perpendicularly to where, growing from pale to dark blue, they became black as the darkness out of which came the deep, loud, hissing, rus.h.i.+ng sound of waters which he had heard before.

"He must be lying down there stunned by his fall!" cried Dale; and then to himself, in a whisper full of despair--"if he is not killed."

"Melk! Melk!" yelled Saxe just then. But there was nothing but the strange echo of his own voice, mingled with the curious hissing rush of water, which sounded to the listeners like the hurried whisperings and talk of beings far down below.

"Ahoy, Melchior!" cried Dale, now shouting with all his might.

No answer; and he shouted again.

"Do--do you feel sure he did fall down here?" said Saxe with difficulty, for his voice seemed to come from a throat that was all dry, and over a tongue that was parched.

"There can be no doubt about it," said Dale sadly. "Oh, poor fellow!

poor fellow! I feel as if I am to blame for his death."

"Melk--Mel-chi-or!" shouted Saxe, with his hands to his mouth, as he lay there upon his chest, and he tried to send his voice down into the dark depths below.

There was a curious echo, that was all; and he lay listening to the rus.h.i.+ng water and trying to pierce the darkness which looked like a mist.

At another time he would have thought of the solemn beauty of the place, with its wonderful gradations of blue growing deeper as they descended.

Now there was nothing but chilly horror, for the chasm was to him the tomb of the faithful companion and friend of many days.

Dale shouted again with all his might, but there were only the awe-inspiring, whispering echoes, as his voice reverberated from the smoothly fractured ice, and he rose to his feet, but stood gazing down into the creva.s.se.

"Yes, he is lying there, stunned and helpless--perhaps dead," he added to himself. "Saxe, one of us must go down and help him."

"Of course," cried Saxe, speaking out firmly, though a curious sensation of shrinking came over him as he spoke. "I'll go."

"I would go myself, boy," said Dale huskily; "but it is impossible. You could not draw me out, and I'm afraid that I could not climb back; whereas I could lower you down and pull you up again."

"Yes, I'll go!" cried Saxe excitedly.

"One moment, my lad. You must recollect what the task means."

"To go down and help Melchior."

"Yes; and taking the rope from round your waist to tie it round his for me to draw him up first. Have you the courage to do that!"

Saxe was silent.

"You see, it means staying down there alone in that place till I can send you back the rope. There must be no shrinking, no losing your head from scare. Do you think you have the courage to do this coolly!"

Saxe did not speak for a few moments, and Dale could see that his face looked sallow and drawn till he had taken a long, deep breath, and then he said quickly.

"No, I haven't enough courage to do it properly; but I'm going down to do it as well as I can."

"G.o.d bless you, my boy!" cried Dale earnestly, as he grasped Saxe's hand. "There, lay down your axe while I fasten on the rope, and then I'll drive mine down into this crack and let the rope pa.s.s round it. I can lower you down more easily then. Ah!"

He e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed this last in a tone full of disappointment, for as he suddenly raised his hands to his breast, he realised the absence of that which he had before taken for granted--the new rope hanging in a ring over his shoulder.

"The ropes!" cried Saxe excitedly. "Melk has one; the other is hanging in the tent. Here, I'll run back."

"No," said Dale; "I am stronger and more used to the work: I'll go. You shout every now and then. Even if he does not answer you he may hear, and it will encourage him to know that we are near."

"But hadn't we better go back for help?"

"Before we could get it the poor fellow might perish from cold and exhaustion. Keep up your courage; I will not be a minute longer than I can help."

He was hurrying along the upper side of the creva.s.se almost as he spoke, and then Saxe felt his blood turn cold as he saw his companion step back and leap over from the snow on to the ice at the other side, and begin to descend the glacier as rapidly as the rugged nature of the place would allow.

Saxe stood watching Dale for some time, and saw him turn twice to wave his hand, while he became more than ever impressed by the tiny size of the descending figure, showing as it did how vast were the precipices and blocks of ice, and how enormous the ice river on which he stood, must be.

Then, as he gazed, it seemed that another accident must have happened, for Dale suddenly disappeared as if swallowed up in another creva.s.se.

But, as Saxe strained his eyes downward into the distance, he caught a further glimpse of his companion as he pa.s.sed out from among some pyramids of ice, but only to disappear again. Then Saxe saw his head and shoulders lower down, and after an interval the top of his cap, and he was gone.

To keep from dwelling upon the horror of his position, alone there in that icy solitude, Saxe lay down again, with his face over the chasm, and hailed and shouted with all his might. But still there was no reply, and he rose up from the deep snow once more, and tried to catch sight of Dale; but he had gone. And now, in spite of his efforts to be strong and keep his head cool, the horror began to close him in like a mist. Melchior had fallen down that creva.s.se, and was killed. Dale had gone down to their camp to fetch the rope, but he was alone. He had no guide, and he might lose his way, or meet with an accident too, and fall as Melchior had fallen. Even if he only had a slip, it would be terrible, for he might lie somewhere helpless, and never be found.

In imagination, as he stood here, Saxe saw himself waiting for hours, perhaps for days, and no help coming. And as to returning, it seemed impossible to find his way farther than their camp; for below the glacier Melchior had led them through a perfect labyrinth of narrow chasms, which he had felt at the time it would be impossible to thread alone.