Saxe's depression was only very temporary. As his breath, short from
exertion, began to come more regularly, his thoughts dropped back from
the tangle of weak helplessness into their proper common-sense groove.
Going to Dale, he turned him over on to his back, and then went to
Melchior, who lay motionless; but he was quite sensible, and spoke.
Saxe drew out the flask, and poured a few drops between Dale's lips.
Then, returning to the guide, he treated him in the same manner before
clasping the poor fellow's hand between both his own, and crying in a
choking voice--
"Oh, Melchior! Thank God--thank God!"
"Ja, herr," said the poor fellow in a whisper, as he reverted to his
native tongue: "Gott sei dank!"
Just then Dale began to recover, and uttered a low groan; but
consciousness came with one stride, and he sat up, looked sharply round,
and said sharply--
"Surely I did not swoon? Ah! I was utterly exhausted. Well, Melchior,
lad," he continued, with a forced laugh, "you are no light weight; but
we tested the two ropes well. However did you get down to this place?"
"Don't ask me now, herr," said the guide. "I am weak, and want rest.
Will you let me grasp your hand?"
"My dear fellow!" cried Dale eagerly, and he seized and held the poor
fellow's hand in both of his. "Now, how are you? Can you get up and
walk?"
"Oh, yes, herr; and the sooner the better, for I am wet, and it is so
cold: I am nearly benumbed."
"Here, let's help you," cried Dale, and he and Saxe passed their arms
under the poor fellow's shoulders and raised him up.
"Thank you--thank you!" he said. "It is the cold that makes me so
helpless. Let me sit on that block for a few minutes while you coil up
the ropes."
This was done; and then the question arose--whereabouts on the glacier
were they?
"I think I know," said the guide, rather feebly.
"Yes: but you are not fit to move," said Saxe.
"I must move, young herr," replied the man sadly. "To stay as I am
means a terrible illness, perhaps death. But I shall fight it down.
The movement will send life into me. Now, have you the axes? Please to
give me mine, and I shall creep along. We must get to the tent and a
fire somehow."
"But you cannot lead, Melchior."
"I will lead, herr," he replied, as he rested on Saxe's shoulder. "Here
in the mountains man must exert himself if he wishes to live. This
way."
To the astonishment of both he used his ice-axe as a walking-stick,
holding it by the steel head, striking the spike at the end of the
handle into the slippery floor, and walking slowly but steadily on along
the edge of the crevasse.
Saxe felt a strong inclination to go back and peer down into the black
depths again, but he had to resist it, and, carrying the lanthorn, he
followed close behind Melchior, with one hand raised, ready to snatch at
him if he seemed disposed to fall.
It was very dark now, and the light from the lanthorn was reflected in a
faint, sickly way from the ghostly-looking masses of ice as they
threaded their way onward, the guide whispering to them to be silent and
careful, as many of the huge pinnacles were unsteady.
But, in spite of their cautious procedure, one mass tottered over and
came down with an awful crash just as Dale had passed; and the falling
of this meant the destruction of a couple of others, the noise of their
splintering raising an echo in the narrow gorge which ran upward
reverberating like thunder.
Melchior did not speak, but hurried on, and, turning the end of the
crevasse, led them diagonally off the ice and down into the narrow stony
way between it and the walls of the valley.
Here he let himself sink down on a smooth slope of rock, to remain
seated for a moment or two and then lie right down upon his back.
"It is nothing, herr," he said quietly,--"only weariness. May I beg for
something?"
"Yes: what can we do!" cried Dale.
"Fill your pipe for me, herr, and light it. My tobacco is so wet it
will not burn."
"Of course," cried Dale.
"Hadn't we better give him some more water?" whispered Saxe.
"No, herr," said the guide; "no more. That which you gave me brought
life back to me: it would do no more good now. Let me rest and smoke
awhile--not many minutes. Then I can go on."
The pipe was filled and handed to the poor fellow, who held it with
trembling fingers to the opened lanthorn; and as soon as he had lit it
and begun to smoke, he said feebly--
"Have you matches, herr!"
"Yes, plenty."
He blew out the light.
"We do not want that now," he said, handing it back to Saxe, and lying
back again, to go on smoking rapidly. "The warmth is coming back to my
limbs," he continued. "I shall be able to walk better, herrs, and it
will be best for me."
"Then you think you can reach the tent to-night?" said Dale.
"Oh yes: we will reach it, herr. It is not so very far now. There will
be a fire, and hot coffee, and rugs to cover us from the cold. Oh yes:
we are all faint and hungry."
"But look here, Melk," said Saxe, "suppose I go down and fetch up some
wood and the coffee?"
"No, herr: it is life to me to get down to camp. There!" he cried,
making an effort and rising, "I am getting stronger now. It is hard
work to walk, but it is best for me after what I have gone through."
Saxe looked at the dark figure before him with a feeling almost of awe,
and his desire was intense to begin questioning; but he restrained
himself, waiting till Melchior himself should begin, and following down
over the rugged and slippery stones for what seemed to be a weary
interminable time. A dozen times over the boy felt as if, regardless of
the cold, and the knowledge that it was freezing sharply, he must throw
himself down and sleep. But there was the dark figure of the patient
guide before him, struggling slowly along, and fighting against the pain
and exhaustion that nearly overcame him, and he took heart and stumbled
on till he felt as if all the trouble through which he had passed that
evening were a dream, of which this was the nightmare-like following,
and at last he followed the guide nearly asleep.
How long they had been walking Saxe could not tell, but he roused up
suddenly as a peculiar cry rang out somewhere close at hand.
"What's that?" he cried excitedly.
"The mule trumpeting a welcome back," cried Dale. "We are close there
now;" and, in effect, five minutes after they were in the sheltered
nook, where Melchior stumbled to the tent and dropped down under its
shelter.
"Quick, Saxe! The fire and hot coffee for the poor fellow!"
Saxe was wakeful enough now, and in a very short time the coffee kettle
was steaming, while the fire threw strange shadows on the rocky wall.
Dale had not been idle. His first proceeding had been to throw a couple
of rugs over their companion, who in due time sat up to drink the hot
coffee with avidity. He could only eat a few morsels of bread, but he
partook of the coffee again, and then sank back to drop into a heavy
sleep, and Saxe and Dale sat watching him for some time, forgetting
their own mental and bodily weariness in their anxiety respecting the
poor fellow's state. But after bending over him several times, and
always with the same satisfactory discovery that the sufferer was
sleeping easily and well, both Dale and Saxe yielded to their own desire
to lie down, carrying on a conversation one minute and the next to be
sleeping as heavily as the guide.