Well, we were on the continent when I met with my terrible blanket. We
were going up one of the passes on foot, and somehow I, as I usually do,
lagged behind. I, of course, had an Alpine stock in my hand, and I went
swinging it away, until at last it struck against a lump of rock
overhanging a precipice, so deep that, sailor as I am, I trembled as I
looked down. Well, the stick bounded from the granite against my shin,
and so I made a vow that the lump of granite should take a run, or my
name was not Theophilus.
But it was a tough job, for the stone was very big, and well set in the
rock; but after a deal of straining and pushing, down it went with dull
thuds, as it fell from rock to rock, and at last it splashed into the
water, which seethed up as though trying to get at and drown me.
The job must have taken me longer than I thought for, for when I looked
before me I could see no one, and as I looked I began to see that
twilight was coming on.
Now, I don't know whether you have been much among our own high hills in
Scotland or Wales; but, if you have, you must know how rapidly night
comes on. It is day one moment and night the next, so to speak.
Now I knew this, and made haste forward.
I do not think I had gone twenty yards when I knew, by the great
wuthering sound about me, that a storm was brewing, and it was on me in
no time; and as the snow came down a great curtain seemed to be drawn
over the sky, it grew dark so quickly.
Well, I groped on, but I didn't like it. If it had been a storm at sea
now, I should not have cared much; if the mountains about me had only
been of water, I should not have cared at all; but when I knew that a
false step might send me toppling down as the rock had toppled before
me, I don't mind owning that I grew to like it all less and less.
I stooped down to look at the path, as well as I was able in the little
remaining light, and I found I was in no path at all.
As the last rays of light died out, and as the snow whirled about me, I
remember, as though it would be glad to make my winding-sheet, I turned
cautiously towards a slope of rock, feeling with my stick before I took
a step, for the snow will fill up a crevice in no time, and you may sink
twenty feet before you know where you are; and at last I touched the
rock.
There was still an atom of light left, and by it I just discerned a
black part of the rock, which I took, and rightly, to be a cave. So I
crept towards it, into it, and crouched down on the ground to leeward;
and I can tell you the wind was getting up.
Well, I hadn't lain there three minutes when it was as dark as you could
wish it. I don't know whether any of you have ever been in the dark
when full of anxiety; but if you have, you will believe me when I say
every precious minute seemed an hour.
Suddenly I thought of my fusee-box, and I believe shouted as I thought
of it, for a second idea came into my head. Suppose I struck the fusees
about one a minute, they would not only help me through the darkness,
but, luck willing, they might answer the purpose of a revolving light,
and guide those who were looking for me to my place of shelter, or the
light might be seen at the convent, from which I knew by the guide we
were not far when I stopped to upset the rock.
And I give you my honest word that not for one second did I feel any
ill-will against my companions for leaving me behind; I somehow knew it
was all right.
So out came the fusee-box, and the next moment I had struck a light.
Why I looked round the cave I can't tell, but I did, and I caught my
breath, as you may suppose, when away in the dark I saw two great
yellowish-green balls of fire.
I don't think I moved for a moment, and then I began to question myself
as to whether it was not all fancy.
So I thought I would strike another light; but the box had fallen
amongst the snow, and when I felt for the matches they were all mixed up
with the powder, which is about the only name you can give the snow in
those places; it is very different from the clammy snow we see here.
Now, what was I to do? If I went out of the cavern I should be frozen
to death, while to remain in the cave, and near those dreadful lights,
was maddening.
Well, one way or the other, I determined not to go either backwards or
forwards; so I curled myself up as small as possible, and lay shivering.
I had only lain for what I now know to be a very short time, but which
I took to be hours, when something soft came up against my knees and
elbows.
You may believe I dashed out my fist, and felt it sink a foot deep in
the soft snow, which I rightly guessed had drifted up against the
opposite side of the cavern till it fell over and rolled up against me.
Good, so I was being snowed up, and I saw I must either go nearer those
dreadful balls, which by this time I was sure were no fancy, and which I
felt certain were looking towards me through the darkness, or I must
stay where I was to be buried alive.
I don't know how I came to the decision; but I did at last decide to go
further into the cavern, and so I shuffled out of the way of the snow.
And then I lay still again, waiting.
In a moment or so, surrounded by danger as I was, I began to find myself
actually going quietly to sleep. I had no idea then that that sleep
might have been the sleep of death.
Well, in another minute or so, I felt a warm air on my face; but I was
too sleepy to move, and so I lay still.
And then, believe me I do not exaggerate, I felt four weights press, one
after the other, upon my body, and then a soft, heavy weight sunk down
upon me. I had no doubt it was an animal of some kind; I felt quite
sure of this when a muzzle was placed as near my mouth as possible.
I dare say you will hardly believe it, but in a few moments all my fear
had gone, and I found myself growing grateful to this creature, for he
made me so good a blanket that the heat came back into my body, and I
felt no longer that dull sleepiness of which I have spoken.
I do not at all know how long I had thus lain, when a bark was heard,
which disturbed the regular breathings of my hairy friend, and I felt
his big heart beat above me. Again there was a bark, the broad loud
bark of a big dog, and it sounded much nearer than the first.
As my blanket heard it, he uttered a harsh sound, and leapt from off my
back.
The barking and the start of the animal roused me from what drowsiness
still remained in me, and the next moment I was plunging through the
snow in the entrance to the cave. It was above my head. I was nearly
snowed up; but then the wall of snow had served to keep the cold out.
When I got through the snow, I found the whole mountains were light
again with the stars and the rising moon, for the storm was over.
But a more blessed sight than all was that of a brave, big dog, who
leapt upon me and placed a fore-paw upon each of my shoulders.
Not far off was one of the good monks, coming towards me graciously and
smilingly.
It seemed, I learnt afterwards, that when my party discovered my loss,
and affrightedly told the guide, he, being weatherwise, told of the
coming storm, and said it would be impossible to turn back; they might
think themselves fortunate if they reached the convent themselves, when
the monks and their dogs would do their best for me.
They had reached the convent just as the storm began, and the monks, it
seemed, had but little hope for me.
I shall pass over my arrival at the monastery. I was welcomed so kindly
that I would not attempt to describe it, and as for my own party, you
might, have supposed they had not seen me for a year.
They were very willing to hear my adventures, but when I came to the two
balls of fire, and the heavy animal who had made himself my blanket,
they ventured to laugh out and say I was trying to impose a traveller's
tale on them.
They were still laughing when my eyes fell on my great-coat, which was
hanging on a chair, and I at once remarked a number of yellowish brown
hairs clinging to it.
This was proof positive, and I was more of a hero than ever.
The next morning, when all of us travellers assembled for our simple
breakfast, the young monk who had discovered me--and whom I still look
up to, and I am glad he and his companions live high up in the mountains
above us all--the young monk had a tale to tell. Out of curiosity he
had gone down to the cave, which was a very little way from the convent,
and in it he had found an immense wolf frozen and stark dead, for the
cold of the night had been intense.
And I am not afraid to tell you that I felt very sorry the poor old wolf
was dead, and I don't think you will think any the worse of me for being
sorry.
I went down myself to see the poor old fellow, and I declare he looked
as large as a calf; as for his fangs, I do think they would have gone
through a deal board.
Well, and now how do you think I am going to end the story?
Why, I've got the old fellow now.
Oh no; he was really frozen to death, and didn't come to life again; but
I begged his body of the monks, had him skinned there and then, brought
the skin home and had it stuffed; and I can tell you when I come into
the room where he has a berth, and the sun is shining on his glass eyes,
I often find myself giving a start, as if he were still alive and able
to eat me up.
Story 11--CHAPTER ONE.