"YOU THINK HE IS DEAD?"
Saxe never knew how long it was before he was roused from his miserable
lethargic state by a faint hail, which acted upon him like magic, making
him spring to his feet and answer before going back to the edge of the
crevasse, and uttering a cry that was doleful in the extreme.
Then he shaded his eyes and gazed downward beneath the labyrinth of ice
blocks among which the smoother ice which had formed their path wound
its way; but for a long time he could see nothing of Dale, and he was
beginning to ask himself whether it was fancy, when there was another
hail, and soon after he caught sight of Dale's head and shoulders as he
climbed up the icy slope, and saw that the new rope was across his
breast.
But this sent no thrill of joy through Saxe, for he seemed instinctively
to know that it would be useless, and he shook his head.
In another ten minutes Dale came panting up, and, without hesitation,
leaped the chasm.
"Well," he said, "you have heard him?"
"No."
"Has he not answered once?"
"No."
Dale stood frowning and in silence for some seconds, before saying
sternly, "well, we have our duty to do, Saxe. We must get him out."
"Yes, I'm ready," replied the boy; and he stood watching as Dale took
the coil of rope from his shoulder, a ball of thin string from his coat
pocket, and the lanthorn from his ice-axe, to whose head he had slung it
as he came.
"Ah!" cried Saxe, "you have brought the lamp and string. You are going
to let down a light for us to see where he lies?"
"I was going to, my boy; but I think better of it now. You shall go
down without. It looks dark there, but it will not be so very black.
The long light across will strike down."
Saxe told him about the pieces of ice he had thrown down, and Dale
looked terribly serious.
"So deep as that?" he muttered. Then quickly: "But one piece struck on
some ledge. He must have fallen there. Now, lay down your axe, but you
must take it with you."
Saxe obeyed, and set his teeth hard, as Dale scraped away the snow and
found almost directly a narrow crack which ran parallel with the
crevasse, but so slight that there was just room to force down the stout
ashen staff which formed the handle of the ice-axe, the top of it and
about a foot of the staff standing above the ice.
"That's firm as rock," said Dale, after trying it. "I could trust
myself to it, and the rope will run round it easily."
"You think the rope is strong enough?" said Saxe.
"I had it thoroughly tested before we left England. I could venture to
hang a bull from it, or two or three men. But, ones for all, I have no
right to send you down there. Tell me you dare not go, and I will give
up, and we must go in search of help, for this is a terrible task. You
would rather not go?"
Saxe was silent.
"Speak!"
"I won't," cried Saxe passionately; and then to himself, "I'd die
first."
He held up his arms for Dale to knot the rope about him, watching the
process with knitted brow.
"There: that is safe," said Dale. "Now pick up your ice-axe and hold by
the rope with your left hand, so as to ease the strain upon your chest.
Use the ice-axe cautiously, to keep yourself from turning round and from
striking against the side. When you get down to the ledge, which must
be, from what you say, only just out of sight, you will chip a secure
place for your feet if the ice slopes, and, proceeding quite slowly and
calmly, make yourself first quite safe. When this is done, unfasten the
rope from about you, and make it fast about poor Melchior. Be very
particular about the knot, mind. Don't forget what I have taught you.
That knot must not slip in any way, either in tightening round his chest
or coming undone."
"I'll remember," panted Saxe.
"That's right. Now then, I think that is all, except a final word.
There is no danger for you to dread. The rope is new and strong, and I
am at one end."
"You will not let it slip through your hands?"
Dale smiled at him sadly, and shook his head.
"Ready?" he said.
"Yes."
"Take off your hat."
Saxe obeyed, and Dale removed his and knelt down in the snow, Saxe
slowly sinking upon his knees.
There was a minute's silence as a brief, heartfelt prayer was offered up
for help: and then Dale sprang to his feet with an eager, bright,
cheerful look upon his face, and, clapping a hand on either side of
Saxe's waist, he lifted him by his belt and set him down again.
"Why, I could draw up half a dozen of you," he said. "Now, steady!
Down with you, and slide over. Saxe, you are going to the rescue of a
fellow-man."
The boy set his teeth, his brow furrowed, and there were marks about his
eyes, as he saw Dale throw the rope round the handle of the ice-axe, and
then over the coil, so that the rings of rope should come off freely.
Then he grasped the hemp firmly with one hand, his ice-axe with the
other, and threw back his legs over the edge of the crevasse close to
where the great piece had broken away. As he did this a piece of snow
slipped from under his chest, and went down before him and he was over
the side, swinging gently to and fro, as he heard a spattering noise
come from below.
"Don't be afraid to talk, Saxe," said Dale loudly; and every word came
distinctly to the boy's ears as the sides of the crevasse slowly rose
above him, and, in spite of himself, he turned his eyes up with a wild
longing toward the deep blue sky.
"I--I can't talk," he gasped forth.
"All right--steady! Take it coolly, lad."
"Yes; only don't ask me to talk till I've something to say."
"No!" shouted Dale, as the sides of the crevasses grew more distant and
represented two jagged lines against the sky. "Splendid rope, Saxe!"
came down to him; "runs as easily as if it were made of silk. Cut your
chest?"
"Not much," shouted the boy, who for an instant felt a sensation of
danger as the rope turned him round; but, remembering his instructions,
he touched the wall of clear ice with the point at the end of the axe
handle, checked himself, and tried to look downward into the blue
transparent light which rose up to meet him, as it seemed.
"Half the rope out, Saxe!" came from above. "See anything!"
"No."
"Bit lower down, I suppose. Don't let it turn."
The two edges of the crevasse now began to approach, each other, as it
seemed to Saxe; and he could see that, except where the piece was broken
away, they exactly matched, every angle on the one side having its
depression on the other, the curves following each other with marvellous
exactness, just as if the fracture were one of only a few weeks old.
"See the ledge, Saxe?" came down.
"No;" and the lad felt an intense longing now to be able to see Dale's
face watching him, for it would have seemed like companionship, instead
of his having nothing to gaze at but the strip of blue sky, and the
glistening blue-ice walls on either side going off to right and left
till they seemed to come together in the blue gloom.
And still the rope glided over the ice above, and the slip of sky grew
narrow; but though Saxe peered down into the depths, there was no sign
of any ledge, and the boy who now felt less nervous, was wondering how
much longer the rope was, when Dale's voice was heard.
"No more rope!" he cried. "Now, can you see the ledge?"
Saxe gazed down in silence for a few moments, and Dale's voice came
again--short, sharp and impatient:
"I say, can you see the ledge?"
"No."
"Are you quite sure?"
"Yes."
There was a pause, and then Dale's voice was heard again:
"Does the rope hurt you much?"
"No."
"Can you bear it five minutes longer!"
"Yes--a quarter of an hour."
"Bravo! Wait."
There was a strange silence then, during which Saxe gazed down below
him; but he could see no more than when he had been at the top, only
that everything looked blacker and more profound, and that the noise of
waters was more plain as it reverberated from the slippery walls.
"What is he doing?" thought Saxe. "I hope he will soon draw me up;" and
a momentary feeling of panic came over him, and the rope felt painfully
cutting. But just then he caught sight of a dark object against the
sky. The dark object seemed to be descending, and the next moment he
saw that it was light, and he knew that the lanthorn was being sent down
at the end of the string.
"Call to me if the rope hurts you too much," cried Dale; and to his
horror and astonishment Saxe, as he looked up, saw that his companion's
head and shoulders were over the side, and it was as if a black face
were looking down at his.
"The rope doesn't hurt; but--but--is it safe!"
"Perfectly; and I am letting down the light so that you may see where
the ledge is."
"I understand."
The lanthorn glided down very rapidly, and in a few moments was level
with Saxe's face. Then it descended still, and Dale called to him to
say when it should be stopped; but it was some time before the boy
sharply uttered the word, "Now!"
"See the ledge?"
"Yes--with some broken ice upon it."
"Does he seem much hurt?"