They began to descend the great ice-torrent in solemn silence; but
before they had gone fifty yards Saxe stopped short, darted a wild,
apologetic look at Dale, and began to run back toward the crevasse.
Dale followed him more slowly, and reached the boy as he was lying down
with his head and shoulders over the brink.
"Mel--chi--or!" shouted Saxe, with his hands on either side of his
mouth--a long-drawn, piteous cry, in which he formed the name into three
syllables; and as Dale leaned over and listened to the strange hollow
reverberations down below, it was as if a voice repeated the last
syllable in a faint, appealing whisper.
"There!" cried Saxe excitedly; "I couldn't go without trying once more.
I knew it: he isn't dead! You heard that?"
"Yes," said Dale, with a pitying look at his companion, "I heard that."
"Well? He's not dead. I'll stay here, and keep shouting to him now and
then, while you go for help. Run at once. Stop a minute. Give me your
flask; I'll lower it down to him with the string."
"Saxe, my lad," said Dale sadly, "you are buoying yourself up with false
hopes."
"No, no! I heard him answer distinctly," cried Saxe wildly. "Hark!
I'll call again. Melchior, Mel--chi--or!"
He gave forth the last cry with all his might, emphasising the "chi--
or!" and, probably from his being on the opposite side of the crevasse,
and more favourably placed for the acoustic phenomenon, the syllables
were repeated, after a pause, faintly but distinctly--an effect that had
not been produced by any of the lad's cries on the other side of the
crevasse.
"There!" cried Saxe.
Dale laid his hand upon the boy's shoulder, and shook his head sadly.
Then, bending down, he too shouted--
"A-hoy-oy-oy!"
And, after a pause, there came up distinctly the latter part of the
word.
"Ahoy!" shouted Dale again, sharply.
"Hoy!" came up.
"You hear," said Dale. "It is only an echo. A man down there in peril
would not repeat words. In nine cases out of ten he would cry `help!'"
Saxe turned away from the crevasse with a groan that told how forcibly
his companion's words had gone home; but he turned back again.
"It seems so cruel to come away even if he is dead," he whispered.
"Shall I stop while you go!"
"No, Saxe. If we could hear him answer, I should at any cost say Stay,
or I would myself stop, for I believe that a word or two from time to
time would have encouraged him to struggle on for his life. But to stay
there by that crevasse through the night, without proper protection,
might mean your death. The cold up here must be terrible. Come."
Saxe followed him slowly, with his head bent to hide the tears standing
in his eyes, and then Dale took his arm.
"We have done our duty so far," he said; "and we are doing it now in
going for help to try and rescue the poor fellow's remains from yon icy
tomb. Believe me, my lad, I would not come away if there was anything
more that we could do."
Saxe was silent for a few minutes, as they tramped on over the ice,
which was now beginning to take a warm tint in the afternoon's sunlight.
Then, making an effort, he spoke: "You will of course get men and
ropes?"
"Yes; and bring back a crowbar or tamping iron, and a heavy hammer to
drive it into the ice."
Saxe sighed, and, forgetting his weariness, stepped out quickly over the
rugged way, as they kept as nearly as they could to the invisible track
they had followed during the ascent.
The sun was now getting so low down that the great ragged pyramids and
crags of ice cast fantastic shadows eastward. There was a deep orange
glow in the sky, and at another time they would have stopped enchanted
by the dazzling beauty of the effects before them; but now Saxe could
see nothing but the pale face of their guide, as he lay far below with
his staring eyes fixed upon the narrow rift beyond which was the evening
sky; and at such times as the boy conjured up this ghastly picture in
his brain, his eyes grew misty, and he stumbled and slipped upon the
rugged ice which formed their way.
"We must press on," said Dale; "we have not come down above a mile, and
it is a long way yet. We must not be amongst these seracs and crevasses
after dark."
"I can walk faster," said Saxe heavily, and he increased his pace.
But it was in many places a task requiring careful descent, and every
time they came upon a crevasse Saxe felt a curious shrinking, which
called for a strong effort of will to enable him to make the necessary
spring to leap across, while several of the wider ones which had been
leaped in coming up were now avoided by a detour to the left.
All these incidents made their descent slower; and as Dale thought of
the long distance yet to go, he grew more and more anxious.
"Saxe," he said at last, as they were now slowly passing along the rocks
by the side of the glacier, which they had now left to avoid some
patches of rugged ice, "I'm afraid we shall have to rest here in some
niche as soon as darkness comes on. I can't trust to my memory to find
the way farther when the light has gone."
"What's that?" said Saxe, catching his arm.
Dale stopped and listened; but the place was utterly still for a few
minutes, and then there was a sharp crack and a rattling noise.
"Piece of ice broken off and fallen."
"No, no; I did not mean that," cried Saxe, as his eyes wandered upward
among the broken ice now beginning to look cold and grey. "There!--
there!"
A faint chipping sound was heard as the lad spoke; but as they stood in
quite a trough between the steep rock of the valley side and the jagged
masses of ice, it was impossible to say exactly from whence it came.
"Yes, I heard it," said Dale, as the sound ceased. "There must be some
one on the ice: it sounded just like cutting steps. Listen again."
They stood motionless, but all was perfectly still.
"Come along," cried Dale; "we cannot waste time. It must have been the
ice giving way somewhere. Perhaps it was the splitting sound of a
crevasse opening."
"There it is again!" cried Saxe.
"Yes; it must be some one cutting steps: but it is evidently a long way
off. We can't see from here, but some one must be on the mountain above
us, and the sound comes through the clear air, and strikes against the
valley wall over yonder. Yes: hark! It seems to come from there; but,
depend upon it, the cause is high up overhead."
They started again, for everything was growing greyer, and in spite of
the hard work they both began to feel cold. But they had not gone a
dozen steps before the sound began again, and Saxe cried excitedly--
"It's from out on the glacier somewhere. There are people there, and we
shall get help."
There was so much, decision in the boy's utterance that Dale was
impressed, and he stopped short close up to the ice, listening to the
chipping sound, which was distinctly heard now, though very faint.
All at once Saxe went forward a step or two, and then dropped upon his
knees on the stone where the ice stood a few inches away from the rock,
melted and worn by the water that evidently tore down at times.
"Well?" said Dale, as Saxe listened.
"Yes, you can hear it more plainly here," said the boy.
"No!"
"Come and listen."
Dale laid his head against the ice, and for a few moments nothing was
heard.
"No," said Dale; "it is what I told you--an echo from above. People
don't cut steps on glaciers, the slope is not enough. Ah! yes. It does
certainly seem to come from the ice."
Saxe looked at him wildly. His head was in a whirl, full of thoughts,
which seemed to jostle each other, while Dale stood listening to the
steady chip, chip, chip.
"I cannot quite make it out."
"There's some one cutting down there," cried Saxe.
"No. The sound is carried a long way; but some one must be cutting
steps in the ice not far from here."
"Then it is not an echo?"
"No, I think not; but I am not sure."
"Let's see!" cried Saxe excitedly.
"It is like wasting time, my boy; but it may mean the help we want.
Yes, we will see."
Dale began to climb on the ice once more, but Saxe hung back.
"The sound comes from down here," he said.
"Possibly. But come up here, and we may hear it more plainly. Give me
your hand."
"I can manage," cried Saxe, and he seemed to have forgotten his
exhaustion as he sprang up the rugged blocks, and wound in and out till
they came to a smooth part, where Dale halted.
"Yes," he said, as the chipping went on; "the ice conducts the sound.
It comes more from the centre of the glacier."
"It doesn't," said Saxe to himself. "I'm sure it comes from below."
But he said nothing aloud, only followed his companion as he led him on,
and in and out, with the sound playing with their ears as the
will-o'-the-wisp is said to play with the eyes.
For sometimes it was heard plainly. Then, as they wandered on amidst
quite a labyrinth of piled-up ice that at another time they would have
shunned in dread of danger, and through which they were now impelled by
a strange feeling of excitement, the noise died quite away.
At such times they were in despair; but as they pressed on they could
hear the chipping again.
Finally Dale stopped short, beneath a tall spire of ice, and held up his
hand.
"I'm afraid we have wasted a valuable half-hour, Saxe," he said. "There
can be nothing here."
They shouted as they had shouted a dozen times before, but there was no
response, and Dale turned wearily in the direction from which they had
come, the perpendicular rocks of the valley indicating the course they
had to take, when suddenly the sound began again, apparently from close
beneath their feet.
"It must be out here," cried Saxe; and he went off to his right, and at
the end of a minute reached a comparatively level space that they had
not seen before.
"Take care!" cried Dale. "A crevasse over yonder."
Chip, chip, chip. There was the sound again, and as Saxe laid his ear
against the ice he heard it more distinctly.
"We're getting nearer," he cried. "It sounds underneath, but is farther
away. I know! I'm sure! I've felt it ever so long now. There's some
one down below."
Dale said nothing, but he thought the same, and stepping forward side by
side with the boy, they strode on together, with the chipping growing
plainer; and as their further progress was stopped by a wide crevasse
all doubt was at an end.
The sounds came up from the vast rift, which seemed in the failing light
to run in a peculiar waving zigzag right across the glacier for nearly
half a mile.
Saxe uttered a curious hoarse sound, as he dropped upon his knees close
to the edge of the crevasse.
"Take care, boy; the ice is slippery."
Saxe made no reply, but peered shuddering down into the black darkness,
and tried to shout; but his throat was dry, and not a sound would come.
It was Dale who shouted, as he now bent over the crevasse.
"Ahoy! Any one there?"
His voice went reverberating down through the caverns of the ice, and as
the sound died away there came an answer--
"Au secours! Help!"
"Melchior!" yelled Saxe wildly; and the voice came again from out of the
black darkness--
"Help!"