_II.--A PERILOUS ADVENTURE._
It was still early in the day when Walter left the cottage a second
time. His heart was cheerful, and his movements light and rapid.
Instead, however, of taking the road leading to the inn, he struck off
in a zigzag path through the valley toward the Engelhorn, whose jagged
and lofty peaks rose far up into the blue sky. After a short time he
reached the large and splendid glacier that lies between the Engelhorn
and Wellborn, cast a hasty glance at the beautiful masses of ice
burnished to prismatic brilliancy by the morning sun, and then turned to
the left toward a steep and narrow path leading to the summit. As the
road grew more difficult at every step, his progress became much slower,
and he purposely reserved his strength, knowing well that it would be
severely taxed before he gained the object of his journey. After a
toilsome ascent of half an hour he reached the lofty crag called by the
mountaineers the Warder of the Glacier, and sat down to recover his
breath.
It was very necessary for him to take a little rest; for the way he had
come, although long and tiring, was as child's play compared with the
difficulties he had yet to overcome. He had to climb the steep and dizzy
heights that towered above his head; and instead of walking along a
narrow foot-path, he would have to clamber over rocks and loose stones,
to pass close to the most dreadful precipices, and across foaming
mountain streams, till he reached the height at which the refreshing
green disappeared, with nothing visible but huge masses of brown and
gray rock; where no other sight met the eye but that of mountain tops
covered with perpetual snow and ice--a world dead and deserted, where
the familiar voices of nature were almost unknown; where no bird
carolled its love-song from the waving branch; where no sound was to be
heard save the muttered thunder of the avalanche, the roaring of the
cataracts which poured forth from the melting glaciers and made courses
for themselves through heaps of rough stones; and now and again the
harsh and discordant scream of a solitary vulture that with outspread
wings circled slowly aloft, piercing into the valleys with its keen eye
in search of prey. Into these wild and lonely regions Walter had to
climb in order to reach the lofty crag whereon the vulture--the
far-famed Lämmergeier of the Alps--had reared her eyrie.
But these difficulties had little terror for the cool-headed and
brave-hearted mountain youth, who had from his earliest days been
accustomed to roam on dizzy heights where the slightest false step would
have been destruction. He was determined to finish what he had begun;
and gratitude to the noble and generous stranger lent new courage to his
soul, and strength and endurance to his frame.
After a short rest he jumped up again, and renewed the toilsome ascent,
following slowly but steadily the dangerous track that led to the summit
of the mountain. His feet often slipped on the bare and polished rock;
sometimes he slid ten or twenty paces backward over loose pebbles, and
anon sank knee-deep in the snow which here and there filled the hollows;
but nothing daunted him or caused him to waver from his purpose. At last
he reached a broad sheet of ice with innumerable crevices and chasms, on
the further side of which a narrow ridge like the edge of a knife
stretched above a wild and lonely valley, the base of which yawned two
or three thousand feet below. At the extreme end of this ridge the nest
he was in search of was built on a small point of rock, the sides of
which descended precipitously into the depths below.
With his eye fixed on the distant crag, Walter commenced the passage of
the ice-field. The utmost caution being necessary at every step, he felt
carefully with his long staff to ascertain whether the snow that covered
the icy mass was fit to bear his weight, or only formed a treacherous
bridge over the numerous ravines which yawned beneath. Bending his way
round the large chasms, he leaped easily over the smaller ones with the
aid of his staff; and after avoiding all the more dangerous spots, he
succeeded, by caution and presence of mind, in safely reaching the
further side of the glacier, where the last but most perilous part of
his journey was to begin.
As he stood there leaning on his alpenstock, out of breath with the
exertion he had undergone, and surveyed the fearful path which scarcely
any human foot had ever dared to tread; as he cast a glance at the dizzy
precipices which yawned on each side of the ridge, which was itself in
many places scarcely a foot in breadth; as he considered the inevitable
destruction that would follow a single false step, he began to feel his
courage fail, and lost for a moment the confidence and contempt of
danger which had filled his soul an hour or two before, and sustained
him during his perilous journey. "What if I should never return, nor see
my father again?" said he to himself, as he drew back from the road
which seemed to threaten him with destruction. "Is it not too great a
risk to run?"
But these fears only lasted a few moments. He called to mind the
generosity of the stranger, and pictured to himself the delight with
which he would receive him if he returned laden with such valuable
booty; and his determination was renewed on the spot.
"I should be ashamed ever to look him in the face again," said he to
himself; "and what would father say if he were to see that I was afraid
of climbing a few rocks? No, no. I must and will have the birds; so here
goes!"
Laying his alpenstock on the ground, he took off the thick jacket and
heavy shoes which would but hinder his progress, and with only his shirt
and trousers on, an axe in his belt, and the game bag hung over his
shoulder, he started forward with all his former courage and energy, to
complete the dangerous undertaking.
His progress was not difficult at first. The ridge along which he had to
go was broad enough to begin with, although very rough and wild here and
there. But after he had gone a little way, it got so narrow that he
found it difficult to secure a foot-hold. At this point the ridge became
so attenuated that the youth saw at the first glance that it was
impossible to proceed in an upright position; he therefore crept along
on all fours, or sat astride the ridge and urged himself on with his
hands and feet.
Thus with extreme difficulty he pursued his perilous way toward the end
of the ridge on which he knew the eyrie was built. But presently he saw
the nest, and could hear the young birds piping, which gave him new
strength and determination. At this juncture a loud scream overhead
caused him to look up, and he was alarmed to see the female vulture
wheeling round the nest with a young goat in her talons. With this new
danger menacing him, the young cragsman lay flat down on the rock, and
remained motionless, while he offered up an earnest prayer to Heaven
that the bird might not discover him. He knew the peril which threatened
him, for he had often heard of the fury with which the vulture attacks
any one who attempts to rob its nest. He had heard of many cragsmen who
had lost their lives in that way, and his own position was by no means
the most favorable to defend himself against attack. His short and
earnest prayer was not in vain. The young birds screeched louder and
louder as they saw the prey in their mother's talons; and after the
vulture had further tempted their appetite by one or two more majestic
sweeps, she dropped the dainty morsel into the nest, where it was at
once seized. After assisting her young ones to make a good beginning of
their meal, the mother-bird unfolded her powerful wings, and glided into
the valley beneath with the speed of an arrow.
"Heaven be thanked, I am saved!" murmured Walter, as he rose from his
uncomfortable position and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. "I
must lose no time now, or perhaps one or both the old birds may return."
He pressed on with redoubled energy till an event occurred, unimportant
in itself, but which caused him some uneasiness, and reminded him of the
need of caution. The rock in places was fragile and split up by the
weather, and with a slight touch of his foot he loosened an immense
fragment of stone, which went rolling down the side of the mountain till
it reached a projecting ledge hundreds of feet below. A pang of terror
shot through the boy's heart, and his face blanched, as he watched the
stone thundering over the obstacles in its way until it disappeared in a
cloud of dust. It seemed as if the whole mountain trembled beneath him;
a mist bleared his eyes; and as the blood rushed to his head, a deadly
giddiness threatened to overpower him. He felt an impulse to throw
himself over, which he could scarcely resist; and it was only by falling
on his face and shutting his eyes that he recovered his presence of
mind. After thus lying for several minutes, with beating heart and
quaking limbs, until by degrees he became more at ease, he ventured to
look around him once more, and fixed his eyes on the nest, which was now
only about fifty paces farther on.
After waiting a few minutes longer, to be sure that his courage had
returned, he made a fresh start, determining not to allow anything to
alarm him again; and soon reached the end of the ridge, and viewed the
nest with the young vultures before him. But here still another
difficulty presented itself. The rock, which up to this point had been
quite level, rose at the extreme end about eight feet above the ridge,
and formed a sort of projecting platform, which the parent birds, with
their wonderful sagacity, had deemed the most suitable spot on which to
take up their abode. As he measured the height with his eye, Walter
began to fear that after all he would be obliged to return without
accomplishing his object, for the rock was so smooth as scarcely to
afford the least hold to either his hands or feet. Fortunately, however,
he recollected his little axe, which might do him good service if the
stone, as he hoped, proved soft. Raising himself cautiously, he drew the
axe from his belt, and while supporting himself with the left hand,
dealt the rock several vigorous blows with the right, and to his great
delight succeeded in making notches, by which, if he only went carefully
to work, he could accomplish his object.
With renewed courage he clambered up the almost perpendicular rock, and
his curly hair and sunburned face soon appeared above the edge of the
nest. The next moment he leaned over, seized the young birds in spite of
their angry cries, transferred them one after the other to his bag, and
throwing it across his shoulder, began to return on the dangerous road
by which he had come. In common, however, with the experience of all who
have ascended precipitous heights, he soon found that going down was
much more difficult than had been the coming up; but ignoring the fact
that he had beneath him a precipice two thousand feet deep, he devoted
all his attention to the work immediately before him, and carefully
descended the rocky wall step by step, till he reached the level ridge
once more. He then turned slowly round, slung his bag in front of him,
and leaning back against the wall, surveyed the giddy road which he must
traverse to reach the glacier and the steep declivities of the
Engelhorn, and thereafter his native valley.
It was a difficult and dangerous road; but the young mountaineer's heart
was now full of joy and confidence, for he had surmounted the greatest
difficulty, and the prize of his bold and daring venture was in his
possession. He uttered an exclamation of triumph; then, thanking God for
the help he had received, he implored the Divine protection on his
homeward journey. The sharp ridge made it necessary for him, as before,
to work his way forward astride on the rock for some time; but he soon
got within sight of a part where it would be possible to go on his hands
and knees, and was just about to change his straddling position for the
more comfortable one of crawling, when the constant shrieking of the
young vultures in his bag was answered by a piercing cry from above,
followed the next moment by the loud rushing of powerful wings close to
his ear. The boy uttered an exclamation of horror, and clung with all
his might to the rock to prevent himself from falling.
In an instant he perceived the fearful danger that threatened him. One,
or perhaps both the old birds had been attracted by the cries of the
young ones, and were about to avenge themselves on the robber of their
nest. Walter guessed that a hard fight would probably take place, and
his first impulse was to throw the bag with the young birds into the
valley beneath, and then try to make his escape as well as he might. But
he soon found that this plan was more readily formed than it could be
executed; for before he could make a single movement, he felt the blast
of the wings just above his head, while the screaming of the enraged
bird so confused his senses that he had great difficulty to avoid being
hurled from his narrow resting-place into the ravine below. This sudden
danger, although it alarmed him for the moment, awoke the next moment
the courage and determination of the brave-hearted boy. It was a case of
life or death, and it was vain to think of retiring from the contest.
So, snatching his axe from his belt, he aimed a powerful blow at the old
vulture as she swept down upon him for the third time. He succeeded
beyond his expectation, for the blow, made almost at random, struck the
wing of the bird, which, after vainly attempting to continue the
struggle, fell helplessly into the abyss.
Relieved of his antagonist, Walter felt completely exhausted, and was
obliged to lie down at full length for several minutes until he regained
his breath and self-possession. He then made the best of his way along
till he reached the steep road leading to the glacier, and had got about
half way down, when just in the most dangerous part he heard the ominous
scream again, and saw with a shrinking horror that the male vulture,
attracted, like its mate, by the continued cries of the young birds, had
discovered him. In a fury of rage the angry bird darted downward, and
sweeping past with outstretched talons, tried to hurl him headlong from
the crag.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[Illustration: OUR POST-OFFICE BOX.]
My uncle has brought me a little alligator from Florida, and mamma
says I may keep it if I can take care of it. It is in a big tin pan
of water now, and every day it jumps out and hides in some corner.
I have given it crumbs of bread and cake, but it does not eat them.
Please tell me how I can keep it, and what it will eat.