GLACIER AND AVALANCHE
IT was cold weather now. Some snow had already fallen, and Carl had
helped his father and mother in getting ready for the long, cold winter.
Uncle Fritz had been gone for quite a while, and the family had settled
down to their old quiet life. One evening Carl was sitting by the big
stove and telling his mother about the day's work at school, when the
door opened, and who should stand there but Fritz. Carl rushed into his
arms, exclaiming:
"I knew you would come back, because you promised, Uncle Fritz."
"Yes, but I shall stay only a day or two. Then I must be off again.
There is a little village up in the mountains about twenty miles away.
I must go there before the weather grows any colder, for if a big
snow-storm should come up it would make hard walking."
"Will you go all the way on foot, uncle?" asked Carl. "I do believe you
never ride in a train if you can help it."
Fritz laughed. "I must say I enjoy the walking best. But, anyhow, this
time my way lies across country. How would you like to go too? I have
to cross a glacier before I get there. Did you ever see a glacier, my
boy?"
"No, Uncle Fritz, and I have always longed to do so. O, mother, may I
go? I will study hard at school, and make up all the lessons I lose
while I am away."
"How long will you be gone, Fritz?" asked his sister.
"Not over three days, if the weather is good; and after that I shall
not stay in this part of the country. I am going to Geneva, so it will
be Carl's last chance for a long time to go with me."
[Illustration: "IT WAS A RIVER OF SOLID ICE!"]
In this way it came to pass that Carl went with his uncle.
"Do take good care of him, Fritz," the loving mother called, as the man
and boy left the little cottage the next morning. "You know he is my
only child."
"Never fear, sister. I will watch well, and try to keep danger away,"
Fritz promised.
Soon after the two travellers had left the village, the way became
quite rough. Fritz told many stories of his wild life as a guide, and
Carl was so interested he had no time to think about himself.
After three hours of hard walking, the two travellers stopped to rest
and eat the lunch of bread and cheese Carl's mother had given them. A
long tramp was still before them, and the way grew rougher at every
step. The sun was just setting when the little mountain village at
last came in sight.
It looked, at first, like a small bunch of black dots high up on the
steep slope before them. But before it could be reached, the glacier
must be crossed.
It was a river, indeed, but not like most other rivers in the world. It
was a river of solid ice! When it first came in sight, it seemed like a
broad, smooth sheet. Carl was a little bit disappointed. He turned to
his uncle, and said:
"I don't see anything wonderful or dangerous in a glacier, I'm sure."
"Wait till you get a little nearer," was the answer. "It is not as easy
to cross it as it at first seems."
"Why does it stay a river of ice all the time, uncle? I should think it
would melt in the summer-time, and be like other rivers," Carl went on.
"High up in the mountains the snow stays all the year round. You know
that?"
"O, yes, Uncle Fritz."
"Very well, then. The mass gets heavier and heavier, and much of it is
gradually changed into ice."
"Yes, I know that, too."
"The great weight makes it begin to slide down. It comes very slowly,
of course,--so slowly that it does not seem to move at all. But it does
move, and brings with it rocks and trees and whatever is in its way."
"I see now why it is called a _river_ of ice, uncle. But it doesn't
move as fast in the winter as in the summer, does it?"
"O, no, it can hardly be said to move at all during the coldest months
of the year. In the summer-time, however, it moves much faster than it
seems to do. I have been crossing a glacier more than once when I was
suddenly startled by a tremendous noise. It would seem like the roar
of thunder; but as the sky was clear, it was certainly not thunder. It
was a sound made by the glacier itself as it passed over uneven ground.
It is very likely that deep cracks opened in the ice at the same time,
making a noise like an explosion.
"But here we are, my dear, on the edge of the ice river. Don't you
think now that it is a wonderful sight?"
"Yes, indeed. How beautiful the colour is! It is such a lovely blue.
But dear me! look at this mass of rocks all along the edge. The glacier
is a giant, isn't it, to make these great stones prisoners and bring
them along in its course? They look strong and ugly, yet they are
helpless in its clutches. It isn't easy walking over them, either, is
it?"
After some hard climbing they found themselves on the glacier. It was
not smooth, as Carl had at first thought, but was often cut into deep
furrows or piled into rough masses.
"Look out, now, Carl. We must cross that deep chasm ahead of us very
carefully. It is wider than it looks. Here! Follow me."
Fritz led the way to a place where the chasm was narrow enough for him
to spring across with the aid of his mountain staff. Carl followed,
while Fritz reached over from the other side and seized the boy as he
landed. Carl laughed. He wasn't the least bit frightened.
"I think you did that because of what mother said, Uncle Fritz. You act
as though I were a child, but I am very sure-footed and have been in
slippery places before."
"No doubt of that, Carl. You are a brave boy, too. But it is very easy
to make a misstep in such a place. I shouldn't like it very much if you
were down at the bottom of that chasm at this moment. It wouldn't be
easy getting you up again, even though it is not deep."
Here and there the two travellers met little streams of water flowing
along over the surface. The day had been quite warm for this time of
the year, the ice had melted a little, and the water was running off in
these streams.
"O, uncle, look!" cried Carl, as they came near another chasm in the
glacier. "Here is another bridge of ice over which we can cross. How
clear it is; it looks like glass."
By this time the moon was shining in all her glory. "It is like
fairy-land," said Carl to himself as he looked back at the glacier
which they were just leaving, and then onward to the mountain-tops in
the distance, lighted up by the soft yellow light.
"The mountains are God's true temples, aren't they?" said Fritz, after
a few moments. "But come, my dear, it is getting late. We must move
quickly now, even though we are tired. The lights in the village above
us are calling, 'Hurry, hurry, good people, before we sleep for the
night!'"
It had been a long, hard day, but Carl had enjoyed every moment. That
night as he lay in the warm bed prepared for him, he thought it all
over before he slept.
How kind these new friends were, too. Although he and his uncle had
reached the village so late, a warm supper was made ready for them at
once and everything done for their comfort. Why, the good woman of the
house had even taken a hot stone from the hearth and put it into Carl's
bed.
"I want you to sleep warm, my boy," she said, as she kissed him good
night, "and it must be colder up here than in your own home in the
valley."
The next day Carl had a chance to look around the little village. You
would hardly call it a village, either. There were only six or eight
houses. Their roofs were weighted down with rocks, like the cottage
where Carl had stayed through the summer. It was the only way to be
sure of safety, for the winter winds blew fiercely here; Carl knew
that. There were long months when the cows must stay in their stable,
week after week.
"But how neat the barn is!" exclaimed the boy. "It is almost like a
sitting-room. Your father has a table and chairs here, as though he
stayed here a good deal of the time."
"Yes, father likes his cattle so much, he wishes to be with them all he
can," answered Marie, who was the only child in the house where Carl
and his uncle were staying.
"Don't you think our cows are lovely, and did you notice the big black
one in the first stall? She is the queen of the herd. Father let me
name her, and so I called her 'Marie,' after myself."
"O, yes, I noticed her first of all," answered Carl. "I should think
you would like it here better in summer than in winter. Aren't you ever
afraid of avalanches, Marie?"
"Yes, indeed, Carl. Sometimes I lie awake and tremble all night. I
can't help it. That is when the wind blows very hard and the house
rocks to and fro. Then I think of the great drifts of snow above us
on the mountain. What if they should start down and come in this
direction! There would be an end of us; the whole village would be
buried.
"Once last winter, I was wakened by a terrible noise. I knew what it
was at once. It was an avalanche. It was coming this way with a sound
like thunder. I ran into mother's room; she and father were on their
knees, praying. The danger lasted only a few minutes and then all was
still. But, do you know, Carl, in the morning we had sad news.
"The house of a neighbour had been carried away. His cattle were buried
somewhere in the great snowslide and were never heard of again. But he
and his family were safe because they happened to be spending the night
with another neighbour."
"Was it a strong wind that caused the avalanche that night?" asked Carl.
"No, father said that could not have been the reason. But you know that
sometimes even the cracking of a whip is enough to start the dry snow
in the winter-time. Then, as it sweeps downward like a waterfall, more
and more is added to it and in a short time it becomes a snowy torrent.
O, it is fearful then!" and Marie pressed her hands together in fright
at the very thought.
"You poor little girl. Don't talk about it any more. I'm so sorry I
said a word about avalanches," said Carl. His voice was very gentle,
because he felt so sorry for Marie. "Perhaps there won't be any more
coming down this side of the mountain," he added. "Then you will be
just as safe as I am in my home in the valley."
"Carl, Carl! where are you?" The words came from the direction of the
house. It was Carl's uncle, who had wondered what had become of the
boy. The children came hurrying out of the barn.
"It is growing dark, my dear, and I was afraid you had wandered off
somewhere," said Fritz. "I promised your mother to look out for you,
Carl, so you see I am doing my duty. Come into the house now. We will
have a pleasant evening with our good friends. Then, with morning
light, we must start on our homeward way."
That night many stories were told of the fairies and the gnomes. It is
no wonder that when Carl went to sleep he dreamed he was living in a
cave with the fairies, and that the gnomes brought him a pile of gold
heavy enough to make him rich all the rest of his life.