The three boys scrambled with all their speed, Walter helping the other
two down the vast primeval heap of many-tinted rock-fragments which form
the huge summit of Appenfell, and found themselves again on the short
slippery grass, hardened with recent frosts, that barely covered the
wave-like sweep of the hill-side. Meanwhile, the vast dense masses of
white cloud gathered below them, resting here and there in the hollows
of the mountains like gigantic walls and bastions, and leaning against
the abrupter face of the precipice in one great unbroken barrier of
opaque, immaculate, impenetrable pearl. As you looked upon it the chief
impression it gave you was one of immense thickness and crushing weight.
It seemed so compressed and impermeable that one could not fancy how
even a thunderbolt could shatter it, or the wildest blast of any
hurricane dissipate its enormous depth. But as yet it had not enveloped
the peaks themselves. On them the sun yet shone, and where the boys
stood they were still bathed in the keen yet blue and sunny air,
islanded far up above the noiseless billows of surging cloud.
This was not for long. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the clouds
stole upon them--reached out white arms and enfolded them in sudden
whirls of thin and smoke-like mist; eddied over their heads and round
their feet; swathed them at last as in a funeral pall, blotting from
their sight every object save wreaths of dank vapour, rendering wholly
uncertain the direction in which they were moving, and giving a sense of
doubt and danger to every step they took. Kenrick had only told the
master who had given them leave of absence from dinner that they meant
to go a long walk. He had not mentioned Appenfell, not from any want of
straightforwardness, but because they thought that it might sound like a
vainglorious attempt, and they did not want to talk about it until they
had really accomplished it. But in truth if they had mentioned this as
their destination, no wise master would have given them permission to
go, unless they promised to be accompanied by a guide; for the ascent of
Appenfell, dangerous even in summer to all but those who well knew the
features of the mountain, became in winter a perilous and foolhardy
attempt. The boys themselves, when they started on their excursion, had
no conception of the amount or extent of the risk they ran. Seeing that
the morning gave promises of a bright and clear day, they had never
thought of taking into account the possibility of mists and storms.
The position in which they now found themselves was enough to make a
stout heart quail. By this time they were hopelessly enveloped in
palpable clouds, and could not see the largest objects a yard before
them. In fact, even to see each other they had to keep closely side by
side; for once, when Kenrick had separated from them for a little
distance, it was only by the sound of his shouts that they found him
again. After this, they crept on in perfect silence, each trying to
conceal from the other the terror which lay like frost on his own
spirits; unsuccessfully, for the tremulous sound which the quick
palpitation of their hearts gave to their breathing showed plainly
enough that all three of them recognised the frightfulness of their
danger.
Appenfell was one of those mountains, not unfrequent, which is on one
side abrupt and bounded by a wall of almost fathomless precipice, and on
the other descends to the plain in a cataract of billowy undulations.
It had one feature which, although peculiar, is by no means
unprecedented. At one point, where the huge rock wall towers up from
the ghastly depth of a broad ravine, there is a lateral ridge--not
unlike the Mickeldore of Scawfell Pikes--running right across the
valley, and connecting Appenfell with Bardlyn, another hill of much
lower elevation, towards which this ridge runs down with a long but
gradual slope. This edge was significantly called the Razor, and it was
so narrow that it would barely admit the passage of a single person
along its summit. It was occasionally passed by a few shepherds,
accustomed from earliest childhood to the hills, but no ordinary
traveller ever dreamed of braving its real dangers, for, even had the
path been broader, the horrible depth of fall on either side was quite
sufficient to render dizzy the steadiest head, and if a false step were
taken, the result, to an absolute certainty, was frightful death. For
so nearly perpendicular were the sides of this curious partition, that
the narrow valley below, offering no temptation to any one to visit it,
had not, within the memory of man, been trodden by any human foot. To
add to the honour inspired by the Razor, a shepherd had recently fallen
from it in a summer storm; his body had been abandoned as unrecoverable,
and the ravens and wild cats had fed upon him. Something--a dim gleam
of uncertain white among the rank grass--was yet visible from one point
of the ledge, and the bravest mountaineer shuddered when, looking down
the gloomy chasm, he recognised in that glimpse the mortal remains of a
fellow-man.
"Are you sure that we are on the right path, Walter?" asked Power,
trying to speak as cheerfully and indifferently as he could.
"Certain," said Walter, pulling out of his pocket the little brass
pocket-compass which had been his invariable companion in his rambles at
home, and which he had fortunately brought with him as likely to be
useful in the lonely tracts which surrounded Saint Winifred's. "The bay
lies due west from here, and I'm sure of the _general_ direction."
"But I think we're keeping too much to the right, Walter," said Kenrick.
"Look here," said Walter, stopping; "the truth is--and we may just as
well be ready for it--that we're between two dangers. On the right is
Bardlyn rift; on the left we have the sides of Appenfell, and no
precipices, but--"
"I know what you're thinking of--the old mines."
"Yes; that's why I've been keeping to the right. I think even in this
mist we could hardly go over the rift, for I fancy that we could at
least discover when we were getting close to it; but there are three or
four old mines; we don't knew in the least where they lie exactly, and
one might stumble over one of the shafts in a minute."
"What in the world shall we do?" said Power, stopping, as he realised
the full intensity of peril. "As it is we can't see where we're going,
and very soon we shall have darkness as well as mist. Besides, it's so
frightfully cold, now that we are obliged to go slowly."
"Let's stop and consider what we'd best do," said Kenrick. "Walter,
what do _you_ say?"
"We can only do one of two things. Either go on, and trust to God's
mercy to keep us safe, or sit still here and hope that the mist may
clear away."
"That last'll never do," answered Kenrick; "I've seen the mist rest on
Appenfell for days and days."
"Besides," said Power, "unless we move on, at all hazards, night will be
on us. A December night on Appenfell, without food or extra coverings,
and the chance of being kept indefinitely longer--" the sentence ended
in a shudder.
"Yes; I don't know what we should look like in the morning," said
Kenrick. "Let's move on, at all events; better that than the chance of
being frozen and starved to death."
They moved on again a little way through the clouds with uncertain and
hesitating steps, when suddenly Walter cried out in an agitated voice,
"Stop! God only knows where we are. I feel by a kind of instinct that
we're somewhere near the rift. I don't know what else should make me
tremble all over as I am doing; I seem to _hear_ the rift somehow. For
God's sake stop. Just let's sit down a minute till I try something."
"But's it's now nearly four o'clock," said Kenrick in a querulous tone,
as he halted and pulled out his watch, holding it close to his face to
make out the time. "An hour more and all daylight will be gone, and
with it all chance of being saved. Surely, we'd better press on.
That's _uncertain_ danger, but to stop is certain--"
"Certain death," whispered Power.
"Just listen then, one second," said Walter, and, disembedding a huge
piece of stone, he rolled it with all his force to their right,
listening with senses acutely sharpened by danger and excitement. The
stone bounded once, then they heard in their ears a rush, a shuffling of
loose and sliding earth, the whirring sound of a heavy falling body, and
then for several seconds a succession of distant crashes, startling with
fright the rebounding mountain echoes, as the bit of rock whirled over
the rift and was shattered into fragments by being dashed against the
sides of the precipice.
"Good God!" cried Walter, clutching both the boys and dragging them
hurriedly backwards, "we are standing at this moment on the very verge
of the chasm. It won't do to go on; every step may be death."
A pause of almost unspeakable horror followed his words; after the fall
of the rock had revealed to them how frightful was the peril which they
had escaped, all three of them for a moment felt paralysed in every
limb, and after looking close into each other's faces, blanched white by
a deadly fear, Kenrick and Power sat down in an agony of despair.
"Don't give way, you fellows," said Walter, to whom they both seemed to
look for help; "our only chance is to keep up our hope and spirits. I
think that, after all, we must just stay here till the mist clears up.
Don't be frightened, Ken," he said, taking the boy's hand; "nothing can
happen to us but what God intends."
"But the night," whispered Kenrick, who was most overpowered of the
three; "fancy a night spent here. Mist and cold, hunger and dark. O
this horrible uncertainty and suspense. O for some light," he cried in
an agony; "I could almost die if we had but light."
"O God, give us light," murmured Walter, echoing the words, and uttering
aloud unconsciously his intense prayer; and then he fell on his knees,
and the others, too, hid their faces in their hands as they stood upon
the bleak mountainside, and prayed to Him Whom they knew to be near
them, though they were there alone, and saw nothing save the ground they
knelt upon, and the thick clammy fog moving slowly around and above them
in aimless and monotonous change. To their excited imagination that fog
seemed like a living thing; it seemed as though it were actuated with a
cold and deathful determination, and as though it were peopled by a
thousand silent spirits, leaning over them and chilling their hearts as
they shrouded them in the gigantic foldings of their ghostly robes.
And soon, as though their passionate prayer had been heard, and an angel
had been sent to rend the mist, the wind, rushing up from the ravine,
tore for itself a narrow passage--and a gleam of wavering light broke in
upon them through the white folds of that deathful curtain, showing them
the wall of sunken precipice, and the dark outline of Bardlyn hill. If
this had been a moment in which they could have admired one of Nature's
most awfully majestic sights, they would have gazed with enthusiastic
joy on the diorama of valley and mountain revealed through this mighty
rent in the side of their misty pavilion, filled up by the blue far-off
sky; but at this moment of dominant terror they had no room for any
other thoughts but how to save their lives from the danger that,
surrounded them.
"Light," cried Walter, springing up eagerly; "thank God! Perhaps the
mist is going to clear away." But the hope was fallacious, for in the
direction where their path lay all was still dark, and the chilly mist
soon closed again, though not so densely, over the wound which the
breeze from the chasm below them had momentarily made.
"Did you see that we are _close to the Razor_?" said Walter, who alone
of the three maintained his usual courage, because custom had made him
more familiar with the danger of the hills. "Now, a thought strikes me,
Ken and Power. If you like we'll make an attempt to cross the Razor.
The only thing will be not to lose one's footing; one can't _miss_ the
way, at any rate, and when once we get to Bardlyn it's as easy to get
down to the road which runs round it to Saint Winifred's as it is to
walk across the school court."
"Cross the Razor?" said Kenrick; "why, none but some few shepherds ever
dare to do that."
"True, but what man has done, man can do. I'm certain it's our best
chance."
"Not for me;" "Or for me," said the other two. "Well, look here," said
Walter; "it would be very dangerous of course, but while we talk our
chance of safety lessens. You two stay here. I'll try the Razor; if I
get safe across I shall reach Bardlyn village in no time, and there I
could get some men to come and help you over. Do you mind? I won't
leave you if you'd rather not."
"Oh, Walter, Walter, don't run the risk," said Power; "it's too awful."
"It's lighter than ever on that side," said Walter; "I'm not a bit
afraid. I'm certain we could not get safe down, the other way, and we
should die of exposure if we spent the night here. Remember, we've only
had one or two sandwiches apiece. It's the last chance."
"Oh, no, you really shan't, dear Walter. You don't know how terrific
the Razor is. I've often heard men say that they wouldn't cross it for
a bag of gold," said Power.
"Don't hinder me, Power; I've made up my mind. Good-bye, Power;
good-bye, Ken," he said, wringing their hands hard. "If I get safe
across the Razor, I shan't be more than an hour and a half at the very
latest before I stand here with you again, bringing help. Good-bye; God
bless you both. Pray for me, but don't fear."
So saying, Walter tore himself away from them, and with an awful sinking
at heart they saw him pass through the spot where the mist was thinnest,
and plant a steady step on the commencement of the Razor path.