Dale hurried on, with Saxe close behind him, till they were out of the
gloomy schlucht, and scrambling over the rocks by the rapidly widening
stream, whose waters had now grown turbid, and were bearing great
patches of grey froth upon their surface.
They could see for a couple of hundred yards down the narrow way along
which the stream ran; then it bore off to the right and was hidden; and
to command a better view, as they eagerly searched the surface for some
trace of Melchior, they mounted the tumbled-together rocks, and saw that
they were at the head of a widening valley, surrounded by nearly level
mountains, forming an oval, which looked like the bed of an ancient lake
similar to the one they had lately left. But, in place of deep water,
there was a plain of thinly scattered grass growing amongst fragments of
rock that looked as if they had been swept down from the mountains
round, and serpentining through the level was the swift river, whose
course they could trace till it passed through a narrow gap at the far
end.
Saxe climbed the higher, and balanced himself on the top of a rough
block, which rocked slightly, like a Cornish logan, as he stood shading
his eyes and following the course of the stream amongst the huge
boulders which often hid it from view; while from his lower position
Dale searched the windings nearer to them, hoping to see that which they
sought stranded somewhere among the stones.
But they looked in vain.
"Can you see anything, Saxe?"
"No," replied the boy in a despondent tone: "can you, sir!"
"Nothing. We must follow the stream down. I dare say we shall find
some shallows lower down. Come along quickly."
He began to descend.
"We must find him, Saxe, and then make the best of our way back for
help. Poor fellow! I'd freely give all I possess to see him safe and
sound."
"Then hurrah! Come up here, sir. Look! look!"
"What! you don't mean? Saxe, boy--speak!" cried Dale excitedly, trying
to mount beside him.
"Hi! don't! You'll have me overboard!" shouted the boy, as the great
block of stone rocked to such an extent that he nearly came down
headlong. "Now, steady! Give me your hand."
The rock was kept in position now by the pressure on one side, but as
Dale sprang up to Saxe's side, it began to rise again, and they had hard
work to preserve their balance, as they stood straining their eyes to
where they could see a man mounted upon some animal riding slowly across
the green level lying in a loop of the stream.
"No, no," said Dale sadly, "that cannot be Melchior. It is some
herdsman; but we'll go and meet him and get his help."
"It is Melchior," said Saxe decidedly.
"I would to Heaven it were, Saxe! Impossible! That man is a mile away.
Distances are deceptive."
"I don't care if he's a hundred miles away," cried Saxe; "it's old Melk,
and he's safe."
"You are deceiving yourself, boy."
"I'm not, sir. I'm sure of it; and he's all right. You see!"
He snatched off his hat, and began to wave it, bursting out at the same
time into the most awful parody of a Swiss jodel that ever startled the
mountains, and made them echo back the wild, weird sounds.
"There! Look!" cried Saxe excitedly, as the mounted man took off his
hat, waved it in the air, and there floated toward them, faintly heard
but beautifully musical, the familiar jodel they had heard before.
Then, as it ceased, it was repeated from the rocks to the right, far
louder, and made more musical by the reaction nearer at hand.
"There!" cried Saxe, "what did I tell you?" and he capered about on the
moving rock, waving his hat and shouting again, "I--o--a--a--de--ah--
diah--diah--Oh! Murder!"
Dale was in the act of saying, "Take care!" when the mass of stone
careened over, and Saxe was compelled to take a flying leap downward on
to another piece, off which he staggered ten feet lower, to come down
with a crash.
"Hurt yourself!" cried Dale anxiously.
"Hurt myself, sir!" said Saxe reproachfully, as he scrambled up slowly:
"just you try it and see. Oh my!" he continued rubbing himself, "ain't
these stones hard!"
"Here,--give me your hand."
"Thankye. It's all right, only a bruise or two. I don't mind, now old
Melk's safe."
"Don't deceive yourself, Saxe," said Dale sadly.
"What! Didn't you hear him jodel?"
"Yes, and you may hear every Swiss mountaineer we meet do that. You
hailed him, and the man answered, and he is coming toward us," continued
Dale, straining his eyes again to watch the slowly approaching figure.
"Bah! How absurd! I'm as bad as the sailor who put his cutlass into
his left hand, so that he could have his right free to knock an enemy
down with his fist."
As he spoke, he dragged at the strap across his breast, took a little
field-glass from the case, adjusted the focus, and levelled it at the
distant figure.
"Hurrah, Saxe, you're right!" he cried, lowering the glass, seizing the
boy's hand and wringing it vigorously.
"Hurrah! it is," cried Saxe; "I knew it. I could tell by the twist of
that jolly old mule's head. I say, you owe me all you've got, Mr Dale.
When are you going to pay?"
"When you ask me as if you meant it, boy."
"Ah, then! I can't ask!" cried Saxe. "Let's have a look at Melk."
He took the glass extended to him, rested his back against a block of
stone, and carefully examined the figure.
"I say, isn't he wet! You can see his clothes sticking to him. But,
Mr Dale, what a swim he must have had. Ah--ae--e--oh--diah--di--ah--
diah--"
"Don't, boy, for goodness' sake!" cried Dale, clapping his hand over
Saxe's lips. "If Gros hears that, he'll take fright and bolt."
"What, at my cry? That's jodelling I'm learning."
"Then practise your next lesson in a cornfield, when we get home. Any
farmer would give you an engagement to keep off the crows."
"Oh, I say, Mr Dale!" cried Saxe, "you are too bad. Just you try
whether you can do it any better."
"No, thanks," said Dale, laughing: "I am full of desire to learn all I
can, but I think I shall make an exception with regard to the jodel.
Come along down, and let's meet him."
They descended the rock so as to get on to the rugged plain; and ten
minutes after Melchior rode up on his bare-backed mule, soaking wet, and
with the mule steaming; but otherwise, as far as they could see, neither
was any the worse for the late adventure.
"Melk, old chap!" cried Saxe, seizing one hand.
"Melchior, my good fellow!" cried Dale, seizing the other; "I thought
we'd lost you."
The guide's sombre face lit up, and his eyes looked moist as he returned
the friendly grasp.
"Thank you, herrs," he said warmly, "thank you."
"But you are hurt," cried Dale.
"I thank you, no, herr; not much."
"But tell us," cried Saxe, who had been scanning him all the time,
"where are you hurt?"
"Hurt? I am not hurt," said the guide quietly. "A few bruises and a
lump on my head--that is all."
"But the mule,--he struck you down with his hoofs."
"It was more of a push, herr."
"But tell us--we thought you were drowned in that awful place."
"Yes, it was bad," said Melchior, quite calmly. "It is so swift and the
water so full of air that you cannot swim, and one was turned about so
and rolled over, but I held on to Gros here, and it did not take long
before we were through."
"But your breath? Did you keep on the surface?" said Dale.
"I don't know, herr. It was all darkness and confusion; but we were
rolled up against the rock sometimes, and I managed to get my breath.
Then we were driven on and on very fast. You see the rock is worn so
smooth, there is nothing against which you can catch. The stones swept
down by the water have worn that all away, and one goes quite quick,
holding one's breath, till one is shot out as if from a gun, and the
water gets smoother. Then we got our breath easily, and Gros here began
to swim while I held on by his mane; but we had to go a long way down
before there was a place for the mule to land."
"But do you mean to tell me," cried Dale, "that you both came through
that horrible place and are none the worse for it?"
The guide smiled.
"Well, herr," he said, "I am very wet, and there were moments when I
thought I could not hold my breath any longer, but there are no bones
broken and no cuts or grazes."
"Then there is nothing else the matter with you?" cried Saxe.
"Well, yes, herr; I am very hungry."
"Hungry!" cried Saxe excitedly. "Yes, of course: I'd forgotten; so am
I. Here, Mr Dale, let you and me go and get the basket whilst he dries
himself in the sun."
"No, no," cried Melchior firmly, "neither of you could carry that
pannier through the schlucht. I am wet, and it will do me good to get
warm carrying the load."
"No, Melchior, it would not be right," said Dale. "I will go."
"No, herr," said Melchior firmly; "as your guide I should be disgracing
myself by letting you run the risk. I have been used from a child to
carry loads upon my back along ledges and places where an Englishman
would shrink from going. I am not hurt or tired: it is my duty; so with
all respect to you I will go."
"But--"
"Answer me, herr, as a gentleman," cried Melchior warmly: "do you feel
that you could safely carry that pannier through the schlucht?"
"I should try to," said Dale.
"Ah! that shows weakness: you cannot say that you would."
They went back to a spot where there was a rich patch of grass, and here
the guide alighted and took off the mule's bridle to turn it loose, when
it immediately proved that nothing was the matter in its direction by
having a good roll in the grass and then proceeding to crop it with the
best of appetites.
"Light your pipe, herr," said Melchior, smiling: "I dare say I shall be
back before you have got through it twice;" and springing from rock to
rock, he soon reached the ledge nearly flush with the water, and they
watched him enter the low narrow long chasm till his figure grew dim in
the gloom; and a minute later had disappeared.
"I don't feel comfortable at letting him go, Saxe," said Dale.
"I do, sir," began Saxe.
"Stop!" cried Dale.
"What's the matter, sir?" cried Saxe, wondering.
"This, my boy! Never mind the sir while we are out here as companions.
We are friends and helpmates--brothers if you like. Now what were you
going to say?"
"Oh! only that I don't feel uneasy about him. A man who could tumble
into the water at the other end and be shot through like a pellet from a
popgun, can't come to any harm. I say, how long do you think he'll be?"
"Nearly an hour," replied Dale.
"Nearly an hour," cried Saxe dolefully--"an hour to wait before we can
get anything to eat. Ah! you lucky beggar," he continued,
apostrophising the mule, "you've got plenty, and are enjoying it, while
I've got none. But I mean to--"
"Here! what are you going to do?" cried Dale.
"Climb down to the water's edge and have a good drink. I'm as thirsty
as a fish."
"Then we must look out for a spring. You can't drink that water."
"Can't drink it?" cried Saxe; "why, I'm so thirsty, I could drink
anything."
"Not that. Why, it's full of stone and snow. Bad as bad can be. Come
along, and let's see what we can find. It will be better than doing
nothing; and I'm thirsty too. Let's try that little rift in the
mountain. It looks the sort of place for a rivulet to come sparkling
down amongst moss and ferns. Let's try."
He led the way toward the rift, which looked like the beginning of a
similar chasm to that through which they had so lately come, Saxe
following closely behind, while the mule went on crop, crop at the thin
fine grass, with his coat rapidly drying in the hot afternoon sun.