Rivers of Ice Part 15

The next stake was accordingly fixed on a part of the ice which was obviously incapable of what might be called a local slip, and which must, if it moved at all, do so in accordance with the movements of the entire glacier.

Thus one by one the stakes were planted in a perfectly straight line, so that when Captain Wopper was requested by the Professor to look through the telescope--which he did with a seaman's readiness and precision--he observed that all the stakes together appeared to form but one stake, the bottom of which was touched on one side of the Mer de Glace by the centre-point of the crossed threads, and, on the other, by the extreme point of the "Dook" of Wellington's nose. The last stake had been fixed not many yards distant from the opposite bank of the glacier.

"Now," said the Professor, with a deep sigh of satisfaction when all this was accomplished and noted, "we will go have our luncheon and return hither to-morrow to observe the result of our experiments. But first we must fix the exact position of our theodolite, for unless it occupies to a hair's-breadth to-morrow the same position which it occupies to-day, the result will be quite inconclusive."

So saying, the man of science took a little line and plummet from his pocket, which he hung under the theodolite, and the spot where the plummet touched the ground was carefully marked by a small stake driven quite down to its head.

Thereafter an attempt was made to gather together the scattered party, but this was difficult. Owing to various causes several members of it had become oblivious of time. Emma had forgotten time in the pursuit of wild-flowers, of which she was excessively fond, partly because she had learned to press and cla.s.sify and write their proper names under them, but chiefly because they were intrinsically lovely, and usually grew in the midst of beautiful scenery. Nita had forgotten it in the pursuit of Emma, of whom she had become suddenly and pa.s.sionately fond, partly because she possessed a loving nature, but chiefly because Emma was her counterpart. Lewis had forgotten it in pursuit of Nita, of whom he had become extremely fond, partly because she was pretty and pert, but chiefly because he--he--well, we cannot say precisely why, seeing that he did not inform us, and did not himself appear clearly to know.

Slingsby had forgotten it in the ardent effort to reproduce on paper and with pencil, a scene so magnificent that a brush dipped in the rainbow and applied by Claude or Turner would have utterly failed to do it justice; and last, as well as least, Gillie White had forgotten it in the pursuit of general knowledge, in which pursuit he had used his alpenstock effectively in opening up everything, stabbing, knocking down, uprooting, overturning, and generally shattering everything that was capable of being in any degree affected by the physical powers and forces at his command. There can be no doubt whatever that if Gillie White had been big and strong enough, Mont Blanc itself would have succ.u.mbed that day to his inquiring mind, and the greatest ice-reservoir of Europe would have been levelled with the plain. As it was, he merely levelled himself, after reaching the point of exhaustion, and went to sleep on the sunny side of a rock, where he was nearly roasted alive before being aroused by the shouts of Captain Wopper.

At last, however, the party a.s.sembled at the Montanvert, where, amid interjectional accounts of the various incidents and adventures of the forenoon, strength was recruited for the subsequent operations of the day. These, however, were only matters of amus.e.m.e.nt. The Professor, remarking jocosely that he now cast science to the dogs and cats (which latter he p.r.o.nounced cawts), sent his instruments back to Chamouni, and, with the zest of a big boy let loose from school, crossed the Mer de Glace to the Chapeau.

This feat was by no means so difficult as that which had been accomplished by Lawrence. It will be remembered that the spot selected for measurement had been at the steep and rugged part of the ice-river styled the Glacier des Bois, below the Montanvert. The ordinary crossing-place lay considerably higher up, just opposite to the inn.

The track had been marked out over the easiest and flattest part of the ice, and levelled here and there where necessary for the special benefit of tourists. Still man--even when doing his worst in the way of making rough places plain, and robbing nature of some of her romance--could not do much to damage the grandeur of that impressive spot. His axe only chipped a little of the surface and made the footing secure. It could not mar the beauty of the picturesque surroundings, or dim the sun's glitter on the ice-pinnacles, or taint the purity of these delicate blue depths into which Emma and Nita gazed for the first time with admiration and surprise while they listened to the mysterious murmurings of sub-glacial waters with mingled feelings of curiosity and awe.

Full of interest they traversed the grand unfathomable river of ice,-- the product of the compressed snows of innumerable winters,--and, reaching the other side in less than an hour, descended the Chapeau through the terminal moraine.

Those who have not seen it can form but a faint conception of the stupendous ma.s.s of _debris_ which is cut, torn, wrenched, carried, swept, hurled, rolled, crushed, and ground down by a glacier from the mountain-heights into the plain below. The terminal moraine of the Mer de Glace is a whole valley whose floor and sides are not only quite, but deeply, covered with rocks of every shape and size, from a pebble the size of a pea, to a boulder as large as a cottage, all strewn, piled, and heaped together in a wild confusion that is eminently suggestive of the mighty force which cast them there.

"To me there do seem something dreadful as well as grand in it," said Nita, as she sat down on a boulder beside Emma, near the lower end of the chaotic valley.

"It is, indeed, terrible," answered Emma, "and fills me with wonder when I think that frozen water possesses power so stupendous."

"And yet the same element," said the Professor, "which, when frozen, thus rends the mountains with force irresistible, when melted flows through the land in gentle fertilising streams. In both forms its power is most wonderful."

"Like that of Him who created it," said Emma, in a low tone.

The party stood on the margin of a little pond or lakelet that had collected in the midst of the _debris_, and which, by reflecting the clear sky and their figures, with several large boulders on its margin, gave point and a measure of softness to the otherwise confused and rugged scene. While they stood and sat rapt in silent contemplation of the tongue of the Mer de Glace, at whose tip was the blue ice-cave whence issued the Arveiron, a lordly eagle rose from a neighbouring cliff and soared grandly over their heads, while a bright gleam of the sinking sun shot over the white shoulders of Mont Blanc and lit up the higher end of the valley, throwing the lower part into deeper shade by contrast.

"There is a warning to us," said Lewis, whose chief interest in the scene lay in the reflection of it that gleamed from Nita h.o.r.etzki's eyes.

"Which is the warning," asked Slingsby, "the gleam of suns.h.i.+ne or the eagle?"

"Both, for while the sun is going to bed behind the snow, the eagle is doubtless going home to her eyrie, and Antoine tells me that it is full three miles from this spot to our hotel in Chamouni."

It did not take them long to traverse that s.p.a.ce, and ere long, like the eagle and the sun, the whole party had retired to rest--the younger members, doubtless, to dreamless slumber; the Professor and the Captain, probably, to visions of theodolites and ice.

Although, however, these worthies must needs await the coming day to have their scientific hopes realised, it would be cruel to keep our patient reader in suspense. We may therefore note here that when, on the following day, the theodolite was re-fixed, and the man of science and his amateur friend had applied their respective eyes to the telescope, they were a.s.sured beyond a doubt that the stakes _had moved_, some more and some less, while the "Dook's nose," of course, remained hard and fast as the rock of which it was composed. The stakes had descended from about one to three feet during the twenty-four hours-- those near the edge having moved least and those near the centre of the ice-river's flow having moved farthest.

Of course there was a great deal of observing with the theodolite, and careful measuring as well as scrambling on the ice, similar to that of the previous day; but the end of the whole was that the glacier was ascertained to have flowed, definitely and observably down its channel, there could be no doubt whatever about that; the thing had been clearly proved, therefore the Professor was triumphant and the Captain, being a reasonable man, was convinced.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

IN WHICH GILLIE IS SAGACIOUS, AN EXCURSION IS UNDERTAKEN, WONDROUS SIGHTS ARE SEEN, AND AVALANCHES OF MORE KINDS THAN ONE ARE ENCOUNTERED.

"Susan," said Gillie, one morning, entering the private apartment of Mrs Stoutley's maid with the confidence of a privileged friend, flinging himself languidly into a chair and stretching out his little legs with the air of a rather used-up, though by no means discontented, man, "Susan, this is a coorious world--wery coorious--the most coorious I may say that I ever come across."

"I won't speak a word to you, Gillie," said Susan, firmly, "unless you throw that cigar out of the window."

"Ah, Susan, you would not rob me of my mornin' weed, would you?"

remonstrated Gillie, puffing a long cloud of smoke from his lips as he took from between them the end of a cigar that had been thrown away by some one the night before.

"Yes, I would, child, you are too young to smoke."

"Child!" repeated Gillie, in a tone of reproach, "too young! Why, Susan, there's only two years between you an' me--that ain't much, you know, at _our_ time of life."

"Well, what then? _I_ don't smoke," said Susan.

"True," returned Gillie, with an approving nod, "and, to say truth, I'm pleased to find that you don't. It's a nasty habit in women."

"It's an equally nasty habit in boys. Now, do as I bid you directly."

"When a man is told by the girl he loves to do anythink, he is bound to do it--even if it wor the sheddin' of his blood. Susan, your word is law."

He turned and tossed the cigar-end out of the window. Susan laughingly stooped, kissed the urchin's forehead, and called him a good boy.

"Now," said she, "what do you mean by sayin' that this is a curious world? Do you refer to this part of it, or to the whole of it?"

"Well, for the matter of that," replied Gillie, crossing his legs, and folding his hands over his knee, as he looked gravely up in Susan's pretty face, "I means the whole of it, _this_ part included, and the people in it likewise. Don't suppose that I go for to exclude myself.

We're all coorious, every one on us."

"What! me too?"

"You? w'y, you are the cooriousest of us all, Susan, seeing that you're only a lady's-maid when you're pretty enough to have been a lady--a dutchess, in fact, or somethin' o' that sort."

"You are an impudent little thing," retorted Susan, with a laugh; "but tell me, what do you find so curious about the people up-stairs?"

"Why, for one thing, they seem all to have falled in love."

"That's not very curious is it?" said Susan, quietly; "it's common enough, anyhow."

"Ah, some kinds of it, yes," returned Gillie, with the air of a philosopher, "but at Chamouni the disease appears to have become viroolent an' pecoolier. There's the Capp'n, _he's_ falled in love wi'

the Professor, an' it seems to me that the attachment is mootooal. Then Mister Lewis has falled in love with Madmysell Nita Hooray-tskie (that's a sneezer, ain't it), an' the mad artist, as Mister Lewis call him, has falled in love with her too, poor feller, an' Miss Nita has falled in love with Miss Emma, an Miss Emma, besides reciprocatin' that pa.s.sion, has falled in love with the flowers and the scenery--gone in for it wholesale, so to speak--and Dr Lawrence, _he_ seems to have falled in love with everybody all round; anyhow everybody has falled in love with _him_, for he's continually goin' about doin' little good turns wherever he gits the chance, without seemin' to intend it, or shovin' hisself to the front. In fact I do think he _don't_ intend it, but only can't help it; just the way he used to be to my old mother and the rest of us in Grubb's Court. And I say, Susan," here Gillie looked very mysterious, and dropped his voice to a whisper, "Miss Emma has falled in love with _him_."

"Nonsense, child! how is it possible that _you_ can tell that?" said Susan.

The boy nodded his head with a look of preternatural wisdom, and put his forefinger to the side of his nose.

"Ah," said he, "yes, I can't explain _how_ it is that I knows it, but I _do_ know it. Bless you, Susan, I can see through a four-inch plank in thick weather without the aid of a gimlet hole. You may believe it or not, but I know that Miss Emma has falled in love with Dr Lawrence, but whether Dr Lawrence has failed in love with Miss Emma is more than I can tell. That plank is at least a six-inch one, an' too much for my wision. But have a care, Susan, don't mention wot I've said to a single soul--livin' or dead. Miss Emma is a modest young woman, she is, an'

would rather eat her fingers off, rings and all, than let her feelin's be known. I see that 'cause she fights shy o' Dr Lawrence, rather too shy of 'im, I fear, for secrecy. Why he doesn't make up to _her_ is a puzzle that _I_ don't understand, for she'd make a good wife, would Miss Emma, an' Dr Lawrence may live to repent of it, if he don't go in and win."

Susan looked with mingled surprise and indignation at the precocious little creature who sat before her giving vent to his opinions as coolly as if he were a middle-aged man. After contemplating him for a few moments in silence, she expressed her belief that he was a conceited little imp, to venture to speak of his young mistress in that way.

"I wouldn't do it to any one but yourself, Susan," he said, in no wise abashed, "an' I hope you appreciate my confidence."

"Don't talk such nonsense, child, but go on with what you were speaking about," rejoined Susan, with a smile, to conceal which she bent down her head as she plied her needle briskly on one of Emma's mountain-torn dresses.