"All of them; the case also."
In some surprise the youth put the cigar-case into her hand, and she
immediately flung it into a neighbouring pool.
"Ah, how cruel," said Lewis, putting on a most forlorn look, while Emma
gave vent to one of her subdued little explosions of laughter.
"What! is our society not enough for Monsieur?" asked Nita, in affected
surprise.
"_More_ than enough," replied Lewis, with affected enthusiasm.
"Then you can be happy without your cigars," returned Nita.
"Perfectly happy," replied Lewis, taking a small case from his pocket,
from which he extracted a neat little meerschaum pipe, and began to fill
it with tobacco.
Again Emma had occasion to open the safety-valve of another little
explosive laugh; but before anything further could be said, they came in
sight of Antoine Grennon's cottage.
It was prettily situated beneath a clump of pines. A small stream,
spanned by a rustic bridge, danced past it. Under the shadow of the
bridge they saw Madame engaged in washing linen. She had a washing-tub,
of course, but instead of putting the linen into this she put herself in
it, after having made an island of it by placing it a few inches deep in
the stream. Thus she could kneel and get at the water conveniently
without wetting her knees or skirts. On a sloping slab of wood she
manipulated the linen with such instrumentality as cold water, soap, a
wooden mallet and a hard brush. Beside her, in a miniature tub, her
little daughter conducted a miniature washing.
The three travellers, looking over the bridge, could witness the
operation without being themselves observed.
"It is a lively process," remarked Lewis, as Madame seized a mass of
linen with great vigour, and caused it to fall on the sloping plank with
a sounding slap.
Madame was an exceedingly handsome and well-made woman, turned thirty,
and much inclined to _embonpoint_. Her daughter was turned three, and
still more inclined to the same condition. Their rounded, well-shaped,
and muscular arms, acted very much in the same way, only Madame's vigour
was a good deal more intense and persistent--too much so, perhaps, for
the fabrics with which she had to deal; but if the said fabrics
possessed the smallest degree of consciousness, they could not have had
the heart to complain of rough treatment from such neat though strong
hands, while being smiled upon by such a pretty, though decisive
countenance.
"It is dreadfully rough treatment," said Emma, whose domestic-economical
spirit was rather shocked.
"Terrible!" exclaimed Nita, as Madame gripped another article of apparel
and beat it with her mallet as though it had been the skull of her
bitterest enemy, while soap-suds and water spurted from it as if they
had been that enemy's brains.
"And she washes, I believe, for our hotel," said Emma, with a slightly
troubled expression. Perhaps a thought of her work-box and buttons
flashed across her mind at the moment.
"You are right," said Lewis, with a pleased smile.
"I heard Antoine say to Gillie, the other day, that his wife washed a
large portion of the hotel linen. No doubt some of ours is amongst it.
Indeed I am sure of it," he added, with a look of quiet gravity, as
Madame Grennon seized another article, swished it through the water,
caused it to resound on the plank, and scrubbed it powerfully with soap;
"that a what's-'is-name, belongs to me. I know it by the cut of its
collar. Formerly, I used to know it chiefly by its fair and fragile
texture. I shall know it hereafter as an amazing illustration of the
truth of the proverb, that no one knows what he can stand till he is
tried. The blows which she is at present delivering to it with her
mallet, are fast driving all preconceived notions in regard to linen out
of my head. Scrubbing it, as she does now, with a hard brush, against
the asperities of the rough plank, and then twisting it up like a
roly-poly prior to swishing it through the water a second time, would
once have induced me to doubt the strength of delicate mother-of-pearl
buttons and fine white thread. I shall doubt no longer."
As he said so, Madame Grennon chanced to look up, and caught sight of
the strangers. She rose at once, and, forsaking her tub, advanced to
meet them, the curly-haired daughter following close at her heels, for,
wherever her mother went she followed, and whatever her mother did she
imitated.
The object of the visit was soon explained, and the good woman led the
visitors into her hut where Baptist Le Croix chanced to be at the time.
There was something very striking in the appearance of this man. He was
a tall fine-looking fellow, a little past the prime of life, but with a
frame whose great muscular power was in no degree abated. His face was
grave, good-natured, and deeply sunburnt; but there was a peculiarly
anxious look about the eyes, and a restless motion in them, as if he
were constantly searching for something which he could not find.
He willingly undertook to conduct his friend's wife and child to the
residence of their relative.
On leaving the hut to return to Chamouni, Madame Grennon accompanied her
visitors a short way, and Nita took occasion, while expressing
admiration of Baptist's appearance, to comment on his curiously anxious
look.
"Ah! Mademoiselle," said Madame, with a half sad look, "the poor man is
taken up with a strange notion--some people call it a delusion--that
gold is to be found somewhere here in the mountains."
"Gold?" cried Nita, with such energy that her companions looked at her
in surprise.
"Why, Nita," exclaimed Emma, "your looks are almost as troubled and
anxious as those of Le Croix himself."
"How strange!" said Nita, musing and paying no attention to Emma's
remark. "Why does he think so?"
"Indeed, Mademoiselle, I cannot tell; but he seems quite sure of it, and
spends nearly all his time in the mountains searching for gold, and
hunting the chamois."
They parted here, and for a time Lewis tried to rally Nita about what he
styled her sympathy with the chamois-hunter, but Nita did not retort
with her wonted sprightliness; the flow of her spirits was obviously
checked, and did not return during their walk back to the hotel.
While this little incident was enacting in the valley, events of a far
different nature were taking place among the mountains, into the
solitudes of which the Professor, accompanied by Captain Wopper,
Lawrence, Slingsby, and Gillie, and led by Antoine, had penetrated for
the purpose of ascertaining the motion of a huge precipice of ice.
"You are not a nervous man, I think," said the Professor to Antoine as
they plodded over the ice together.
"No, Monsieur, not very," answered the guide, with a smile and a sly
glance out of the corners of his eyes. Captain Wopper laughed aloud at
the question, and Gillie grinned. Gillie's countenance was frequently
the residence of a broad grin. Nature had furnished him with a keen
sense of the ludicrous, and a remarkably open countenance. Human beings
are said to be blind to their own peculiarities.
If Gillie had been an exception to this rule and if he could have, by
some magical power, been enabled to stand aside and look at his own
spider-like little frame, as others saw it, clad in blue tights and
buttons, it is highly probable that he would have expired in laughing at
himself.
"I ask the question," continued the Professor, "because I mean to
request your assistance in taking measurements in a somewhat dangerous
place, namely, the ice-precipice of the Tacul."
"It is well, Monsieur," returned the guide, with another smile, "I am a
little used to dangerous places."
Gillie pulled his small hands out of the trouser-pockets in which he
usually carried them, and rubbed them by way of expressing his gleeful
feelings. Had the sentiment which predominated in his little mind been
audibly expressed, it would probably have found vent in some such phrase
as, "won't there be fun, neither--oh dear no, not by no means." To him
the height of happiness was the practice of mischief. Danger in his
estimation meant an extremely delicious form of mischief.
"Is the place picturesque as well as dangerous?" asked Slingsby, with a
wild look in his large eyes as he walked nearer to the Professor.
"It is; you will find many aspects of ice-formation well worthy of your
pencil."
It is due to the artist to say that his wildness that morning was not
the result only of despair at the obvious indifference with which Nita
regarded him. It was the combination of that wretched condition with a
heroic resolve to forsake the coy maiden and return to his first love--
his beloved art--that excited him; and the idea of renewing his devotion
to her in dangerous circumstances was rather congenial to his savage
state of mind. It may be here remarked that Mr Slingsby, besides being
an enthusiastic painter, was an original genius in a variety of ways.
Among other qualities he possessed an inventive mind, and, besides
having had an ice-axe made after a pattern of his own,--which was
entirely new and nearly useless,--he had designed a new style of belt
with a powerful rope having a hook attached to it, with which he
proposed, and actually managed, to clamber up and down difficult places,
and thus attain points of vantage for sketching. Several times had he
been rescued by guides from positions of extreme peril, but his daring
and altogether unteachable spirit had thrown him again and again into
new conditions of danger. He was armed with his formidable belt and
rope on the present excursion, and his aspect was such that his friends
felt rather uneasy about him, and would not have been surprised if he
had put the belt round his neck instead of his waist, and attempted to
hang himself.
"Do you expect to complete your measurements to-day?" asked Lawrence,
who accompanied the Professor as his assistant.
"Oh no. That were impossible. I can merely fix my stakes to-day and
leave them. To-morrow or next day I will return to observe the result."
The eastern side of the Glacier du Geant, near the Tacul, at which they
soon arrived, showed an almost perpendicular precipice about 140 feet
high. As they collected in a group in front of that mighty pale-blue
wall, the danger to which the Professor had alluded became apparent,
even to the most inexperienced eye among them. High on the summit of
the precipice, where its edge cut sharply against the blue sky, could be
seen the black boulders and _debris_ of the lateral moraine of the
glacier. The day was unusually warm, and the ice melted so rapidly that
parts of this moraine were being sent down in frequent avalanches. The
rustle of _debris_ was almost incessant, and, ever and anon, the rustle
rose into a roar as great boulders bounded over the edge, and, after
dashing portions of the ice-cliffs into atoms, went smoking down into
the chaos below. It was just beyond this chaos that the party stood.
"Now, Antoine," said the Professor, "I want you to go to the foot of
that precipice and fix a stake in the ice there."
"Well, Monsieur, it shall be done," returned the guide, divesting
himself of his knapsack and shouldering his axe and a stake.
"Meanwhile," continued the Professor, "I will watch the falling _debris_
to warn you of danger in time, and the direction in which you must run
to avoid it. My friend Lawrence, with the aid of Captain Wopper, will
fix the theodolite on yonder rocky knoll to our left."
"Nothin' for you an' me to do," said Gillie to the artist; "p'r'aps we'd
better go and draw--eh?"
Slingsby looked at the blue spider before him with an amused smile, and
agreed that his suggestion was not a bad one, so they went off together.
While Antoine was proceeding to the foot of the ice-cliffs on his
dangerous mission, the Professor observed that the first direction of a
falling stone's bound was no sure index of its subsequent motion, as it
was sent hither and thither by the obstructions with which it met. He
therefore recalled the guide.
"It won't do, Antoine, the danger is too great."
"But, Monsieur, if it is necessary--"
"But it is not necessary that _you_ should risk your life in the pursuit
of knowledge. Besides, I must have a stake fixed half-way up the face
of that precipice."
"Ah, Monsieur," said Antoine, with an incredulous smile, "that is not
possible!"
To this the Professor made no reply, but ordered his guide to make a
detour and ascend to the upper edge of the ice-precipice for the purpose
of dislodging the larger and more dangerous blocks of stone there, and,
after that, to plant a stake on the summit.
This operation was not quickly performed. Antoine had to make a long
detour to get on the glacier, and when he did reach the moraine on the
top, he found that many of the most dangerous blocks lay beyond the
reach of his axe. However, he sent the smaller _debris_ in copious
showers down the precipice, and by cleverly rolling some comparatively
small boulders down upon those larger ones which lay out of reach, he
succeeded in dislodging many of them. This accomplished, he proceeded
to fix the stake on the upper surface of the glacier.
While he was thus occupied, the Professor assisted Lawrence in fixing
the theodolite, and then, leaving him, went to a neighbouring heap of
_debris_ followed by the Captain, whom he stationed there.
"I want you," he said, "to keep a good look-out and warn me as to which
way I must run to avoid falling rocks. Antoine has dislodged many of
them, but some he cannot reach. These enemies must be watched."
So saying, the Professor placed a stake and an auger against his breast,
buttoned his coat over them, and shouldered his axe.
"You don't mean to say that you're agoing to go under that cliff?"
exclaimed the Captain, in great surprise, laying his hand on the
Professor's arm and detaining him.
"My friend," returned the man of science, "do not detain me. Time is
precious just now. You have placed yourself under my orders for the
day, and, being a seaman, must understand the value of prompt obedience.
Do as I bid you."
He turned and went off at a swinging pace towards the foot of the
ice-cliff, while the Captain, in a state of anxiety, amounting almost to
consternation, sat down on a boulder, took off his hat, wiped his heated
brow, pronounced the Professor as mad as a March hare, and prepared to
discharge his duties as "the look-out."
Although cool as a cucumber in all circumstances at sea, where he knew
every danger and how to meet or avoid it, the worthy Captain now almost
lost self-control and became intensely agitated and anxious, insomuch
that he gave frequent and hurried false alarms, which he no less
hurriedly attempted to correct, sometimes in nautical terms, much to the
confusion of the Professor.
"Hallo! hi! look out--starboard--sta-a-arboard!" he shouted wildly, on
beholding a rock about the size of a chest of drawers spring from the
heights above and rush downward, with a smoke of ice-dust and _debris_
following, "quick! there! no! _port_! Port! I say it's--"
Before he could finish the sentence, the mass had fallen a long way to
the right of the Professor, and lay quiet on the ice not far from where
the Captain stood.
In spite of the interruptions thus caused, the lower stake was fixed in
a few minutes. The Professor then swung his axe vigorously, and began
to cut an oblique stair-case in the ice up the sheer face of the
precipice.
In some respects the danger to the bold adventurer was now not so great
because, being, as it were, flat against the ice-cliffs, falling rocks
were more likely, by striking some projection, to bound beyond him.
Still there was the danger of deflected shots, and when, by cutting a
succession of notches in which to place one foot at a time, he had
ascended to the height of an average three-storey house, the danger of
losing his balance or slipping a foot became very great indeed. But the
man of science persevered in doing what he conceived to be his duty with
as much coolness as if he were the leader of a forlorn hope. Following
the example of experienced ice-men on steep places, he took good care to
make the notches or steps slope a little inwards, never lifted his foot
from one step until the next was ready, and never swung his axe until
his balance was perfectly secured. Having gained a height of about
thirty feet, he pierced a hole with his auger, fastened a stake in it,
and descended amid a heavy cannonade of boulders and a smart fire of
smaller _debris_.
During the whole proceeding Lawrence directed his friend as to the
placing of the stake, and watched with surprise as well as anxiety,
while Captain Wopper kept on shouting unintelligible words of warning in
a state of extreme agitation. The guide returned just in time to see
this part of the work completed, and to remonstrate gravely with the
Professor on his reckless conduct.
"`All's well that ends well,' Antoine, as a great poet says," replied
the Professor, with one of his most genial smiles. "We must run some
risk in the pursuit of scientific investigation. Now then, Lawrence, I
hope you have got the three stakes in the same line--let me see."
Applying his eye to the theodolite, he found that the stakes were in an
exactly perpendicular line, one above another. He then carefully marked
the spot occupied by the instrument and thus completed his labours for
that time.
We may add here in passing that next day he returned to the same place,
and found that in twenty-four hours the bottom stake had moved downwards
a little more than two inches, the middle stake had descended a little
more than three, and the upper stake exactly six inches. Thus he was
enabled to corroborate the fact which had been ascertained by other men
of science before him, that glacier-motion is more rapid at the top than
at the bottom, where the friction against its bed tends to hinder its
advance, and that the rate of flow increases gradually from the bottom
upwards.
While these points of interest were being established, our artist was
not less earnestly engaged in prosecuting his own peculiar work, to the
intense interest of Gillie, who, although he had seen and admired many a
picture in the London shop-windows, had never before witnessed the
actual process by which such things are created.
Wandering away on the glacier among some fantastically formed and
towering blocks or obelisks of ice, Mr Slingsby expressed to Gillie his
admiration of their picturesque shapes and delicate blue colour, in
language which his small companion did not clearly understand, but which
he highly approved of notwithstanding.
"I think this one is worth painting," cried Slingsby, pausing and
throwing himself into an observant attitude before a natural arch, from
the roof of which depended some large icicles; "it is extremely
picturesque."
"I think," said Gillie, with earnest gravity, "that yonder's one as is
more picturesker."
He had carefully watched the artist's various observant attitudes, and
now threw himself into one of these as he pointed to a sloping obelisk,
the size of an average church-steeple, which bore some resemblance to
the leaning-tower of Pisa.
"You are right, boy; that is a better mass. Come, let us go paint it."
While walking towards it, Gillie asked how such wild masses came to be
made.
"I am told by the Professor," said Slingsby, "that when the ice cracks
across, and afterwards lengthwise, the square blocks thus formed get
detached as they descend the valley, and assume these fantastic forms."
"Ah! jis so. They descends the walley, does they?"
"So it is said."
Gillie made no reply, though he said in his heart, "you won't git me to
swaller _that_, by no manner of means." His unbelief was, however,
rebuked by the leaning-tower of Pisa giving a terrible rend at that
moment, and slowly bending forward. It was an alarming as well as grand
sight, for they were pretty near to it. Some smaller blocks of ice that
lay below prevented the tower from being broken in its fall. These were
crushed to powder by it, and then, as if they formed a convenient
carriage for it, the mighty mass slid slowly down the slope for a few
feet. It was checked for a moment by another block, which, however,
gave way before the great pressure, fell aside and let it pass. The
slope was slight at the spot so that the obelisk moved slowly, and once
or twice seemed on the point of stopping, but as if it had become
endowed with life, it made a sudden thrust, squeezed two or three
obstacles flat, turned others aside, and thus wound its way among its
fellows with a low groaning sound like some sluggish monster of the
antediluvian world. Reaching a steeper part of the glacier, on the
ridge of which it hung for a moment, as if unwilling to exert itself, it
seemed to awake to the reality of its position. Making a lively rush,
that seemed tremendously inconsistent with its weight, it shot over the
edge of a yawning crevasse, burst with a thunderclap on the opposite
ice-cliff, and went roaring into the dark bowels of the glacier, whence
the echoes of its tumbling masses, subdued by distance, came up like the
mutterings of evil spirits.
Gillie viewed this wondrous spectacle with an awe-stricken heart, and
then vented his feelings in a prolonged yell of ecstasy.
"Ain't it splendid, sir?" he cried, turning his glowing eyes on
Slingsby.
"Majestic!" exclaimed the artist, whose enthusiasm was equal to that of
his companion, though not quite so demonstrative.
"Raither spoiled your drawin', though, ain't it, sir?"
"Yonder is something quite as good, if not better," said Slingsby.
He pointed, as he spoke, to a part of the crevasse higher up on the
glacier, where a projecting cave of snow overhung the abyss. From the
under-surface of this a number of gigantic icicles hung, the lower
points of the longer ones almost lost in the blue depths. A good
position from which to sketch it, however, was not easily reached, and
it was only by getting close to the edge of the crevasse that the
persevering artist at length attained his object. Here he sat down on
his top-coat, folded several times to guard him from the cold ice,
spread out his colour-box and sketching-block, and otherwise made
himself comfortable, while Gillie sat down beside him on his own cap,
for want of a better protector.
Had these two enthusiasts known the nature of their position, they would
have retired from it precipitately with horror, for, ignorant of almost
everything connected with glaciers, they had walked right off the solid
ice and seated themselves on a comparatively thin projecting ledge of
snow which overhung the crevasse. Thus they remained for some time
enjoying themselves, with death, as it were, waiting for them
underneath! What rendered their position more critical was the great
heat of the day, which, whatever might be the strength of the sustaining
ledge, was reducing its bulk continually.
After having sketched for some time, the artist thought it advisable to
see as far down into the crevasse as possible, in order to put in the
point of the longest icicle. The better to do this, he unwound his rope
from his waist and flung it on the ice by his side, while he lay down on
his breast and looked over the edge. Still he did not perceive the
danger of his position, and went on sketching diligently in this awkward
attitude.
Now it was a melancholy fact that Master Gillie's interest in art or
science was short-lived, though keen. He soon tired of watching his
companion, and began to look about him with a view to mischief. Not
seeing anything specially suggestive, he thought of aiding the
operations of nature by expediting the descent of some neighbouring
boulders from their positions on ice-blocks. He intimated his intention
to Slingsby, but the artist was too much engrossed to give heed to him.
Just as he was rising, Gillie's eye fell on the rope, and a happy
thought struck him. To carry striking thoughts into immediate execution
was a marked feature of the boy's character. He observed that one end
of the rope was attached to Mr Slingsby's belt. Taking up the hook at
the other end, he went with it towards a large boulder, drawing the rope
after him with extreme care, for fear of arousing his companion by a
tug. He found that, when fully stretched, it was just long enough to
pass round the rock. Quickly fastening it, therefore, by means of the
hook, he walked quietly away.
He did not exhibit much excitement while doing this. It was, after all,
but a trifling jest in his esteem, as the only result to be hoped for
would be the giving of a surprise by the little tug which might perhaps
be experienced by the artist on rising.
Thereafter, Gillie sent innumerable ice-blocks to premature destruction,
and enjoyed the work immensely for a time, but, having exploratory
tendencies, he soon wandered about among obelisks and caverns until he
found himself underneath the ice-cliff on which his friend was seated.
Then, as he looked up at the overhanging ledge from which gigantic
icicles were hanging, a shock of alarm thrilled his little breast. This
was increased by the falling of one of the icicles, which went like a
blue javelin into the crevasse beside him. Gillie thought of shouting
to warn Mr Slingsby of his danger, but before he could do so he was
startled by an appalling yell. At the same moment part of the ice
overhead gave way, and he beheld the artist descending. He was stopped
with a sudden jerk, as the rope tightened, and remained suspended in the
air, while his coat and colour-box accompanied icicles and snow-blocks
into the abyss below. A second later and the struggling artist's head
appeared to fall off, but it was only his hat.
Gillie had by this time recovered himself so far as to be able to add
his piercing shrieks for help to the cries of the artist, and well was
it that day for Mr Slingsby that Gillie had, since the years of
infancy, practised his lungs to some purpose in terrifying cats and
defying "Bobbies" in the streets of London.
"Oh, sir! sir!--I say--hi!" he cried, panting and glaring up.
"Eh? what? Hah!" gasped Slingsby, panting and glaring down.
"Don't kick like that sir; pray don't," cried Gillie in agonised tones,
"you'll start the boulder wot yer fast to, if you don't keep still."
"Oh!" groaned the artist and instantly hung limp and motionless, in
which condition he remained while Gillie ran towards the place where he
had left the rest of the party, jumping and slipping and falling and
yelling over the ice like a maniac in blue and buttons!
"D'ee hear that?" exclaimed Captain Wopper with a startled look, as he
and his companions busied themselves packing up their instruments.
Antoine Grennon heard it but made no reply. He was familiar with cries
of alarm. Turning abruptly he dashed off at full speed in the direction
whence the cries came. The Captain and Professor instantly followed;
Lawrence overtook and passed them. In a few minutes they met the
terrified boy, who, instead of waiting for them and wasting time by
telling what was wrong, turned sharp round, gave one wild wave of his
hand, and ran straight back to the ledge from which poor Slingsby hung.
Stout willing arms were soon pulling cautiously on the rope, and in a
few minutes more the artist lay upon the safe ice, almost speechless
from terror, and with a deadly pallor on his brow.
Strange to say the indomitable artist had held on tight to his
sketch-book, possibly because it was almost as dear to him as life, but
more probably because of that feeling which induces a drowning man to
clutch at a straw.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. We ourselves had the satisfaction of witnessing this wonderful
and beautiful phenomenon before having read or heard of it, while on a
trip from Chamouni to Martigny over the Tete Noire.