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The Crystal Hunters: A Boy's Adventures in the Higher Alps, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 8. An Awkward Accident |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHT. AN AWKWARD ACCIDENT "I sat!" cried Saxe, as the guide led on again, and the mule followed patiently enough. "Yes, herr." "Suppose two goats were to meet here, what would they do!" "One would lie down and the other jump over him." "But suppose it were two mules?" "I don't know, herr. One of them might make the other back all the way; but mules are stubborn, and I'm afraid that one would push the other off." "And what then?" "He would swim for awhile, and then drown." "Why," said Saxe, "I thought this lake was very beautiful; but you seem to be taking all the blue out of it. Ugh! why, it would be like falling into a well and trying to get out. I shall be glad to get away from this place." "That's imagination, Saxe," said Dale; "and imagination is something all mountaineers should leave behind." "Why?" said Saxe argumentatively. "Don't go so near to the mule's heels: if he kicks you, nothing could save you from a fall into the lake." "That's imagination, sir," said Saxe, laughing; "and imagination is something all mountaineers should leave behind." Dale frowned, but laughed directly after. "Pert, but smart, Saxe," he said. "Seriously, though, a mountain climber, who must naturally be often walking along risky places, has enough to think about without indulging in fancies of what might be if this happened or that took place. Such thoughts may unnerve him; and you may depend upon it, some of the bravest things are done by those who think the least. I remember, one day in London, seeing the men taking down one of those vast scaffolds formed, not of poles, but of square timbers bolted together; and I saw one man, about a hundred and fifty feet from the ground, standing on one of these pieces of timber, which was fastened to an upright at each end. He was looking on while another workman unscrewed one of the bolts which held it." "How wide was it?" said Saxe, looking down at the narrow shelf of rock upon which he was walking. "About ten inches, I suppose. There was nothing near him, for he was on the very top of the scaffolding, which swayed a little with the weight of the wood; but he seemed perfectly cool and comfortable up there, and after a few minutes he turned and walked along it to the other end, while I, who have often gone along dangerous ledges of ice, felt my hands turn wet inside." "With fright?" "Call it nervousness," said Dale. "No: call it fear or fright. Of course I imagined that at any moment the poor fellow might turn giddy and fall. But if that beam had been lying on the pavement, any one would have walked or run along it without hesitation, for there is no question of balancing on a piece of flat wood ten inches wide. The imagination is the danger." "Then sailors can't have any imagination," said Saxe thoughtfully. "It is to be hoped not, of that kind. If they ever thought of falling, they would never be able to run along the yards of a big ship as they do." "Well, I'll try and not have any imagination," said Saxe. "I shouldn't like you to say you wished that you had not brought me, for you could not go anywhere you wanted because I was such a coward." "I trust to you to be neither cowardly nor rash," said Dale, "and you may trust to me not to take you into more dangerous places than I can help. But it really is a matter of habit. Why, people never think of the danger, but every time they run up or downstairs they risk a severe fall; and I once knew of a sailor lad, accustomed to go aloft and climb over the bulwarks into the main chains or the rigging under the bowsprit, who would pull all the clothes off his bed of a night and make them up on the floor, because he was afraid of tumbling out of bed in the night. Hah! we are getting near the end of the lake. Why, Saxe, it does look black and deep!" "But I don't see any place where it runs out," said Saxe. "There ought to be a river or a waterfall here, oughtn't there!" "Wait a few minutes, and we shall see. Ah! to be sure--there it is; the sides are so close together that they hardly show, but you can see now where the ledge runs, right to that corner." A hundred yards farther along the narrow ledge--a fault in the strata which formed that side of the lake--and all doubt of their being at the exit of the waters was at rest, for Melchior stopped short where the ledge widened into a little platform at the angle of the rock forming one of the sides of a mere crack in the titanic wall of perpendicular mountain, which in places actually overhung them, and ran up fully a thousand feet. The opening where they stood was some twenty feet wide, and through it the waters of the lake poured with a low rushing sound, which seemed to deepen farther in to a roar. Saxe was pressing forward to look in at the opening; but Melchior met them and pointed back over the lake, at the head of which rose a huge mountain mass, snow-clad and glistening, on either side of which glaciers could be seen running sharply down, while away on the left another winding, frozen river descended. "Grand!" exclaimed Dale; but the next moment he turned to the opening by which they stood, the rushing waters having a weird fascination for them both. "The schlucht," said Melchior quietly. "I say," said Saxe: "you don't mean to say we've got to go through there?" "Yes," said the guide calmly. "I have never taken a mule through, but I think we can manage it." "But is it all like this?" said Saxe, looking aghast. "Oh no, herr; it runs together a few yards farther in, and is so narrow that in one place you can stretch your arms and touch both sides at once." "Then it is open right through?" "Yes, herr. The mountain must have split open at some time or other, to let the water of the lake run out." "Yes; and how far is it through?" said Dale. "About a mile: less than half an hour." "And this ledge goes right along?" "Just as it has run by the side of the lake, herr. A little narrower sometimes." "But you say the gorge--the crack--gets narrower directly." "Oh yes--much, herr. It is never so wide as this." "But the water: is there room for it?" "The crack or split in the rocks must be very deep down, for all the water from the lake runs through here, and it's quite a big river on the other side." "And what other way is there, Melchior?" asked Saxe. "The way we came." "No other?" The guide shook his head. "What do you think of it, Saxe? Will you venture?" The lad drew a long breath, and said, through his teeth-- "Yes. I'm not going to be beaten by a mule!" "Go on, then," said Dale quietly, "and as soon as we are through we must have a halt for a meal." "Not as soon as we are through, herr," said Melchior, smiling; and he began to unfasten the mule's girths. "What are you doing?" cried Saxe. "Taking off the pannier," replied the guide. "The ledge is narrow farther in, and it would be awkward if the basket caught against the rock. It might cause him to make a false step, and it would be a bad place to fall in." "Bad place? Horrible!" said Dale, frowning. "But, I say, you can't leave the basket behind with all the victuals," cried Saxe. "No, herr; as soon as the mule is through, I shall come back and fetch it." "We two must carry it between us, slung on the alpenstocks," said Dale. "No, herr, I will manage it all," said Melchior quietly. "I can soon fetch the basket, and it will be better. The young herr will want all his activity to get along without a load. I have been here four times before. I should have been five times; but one May the snow had melted after a great rain, and the lake was so full that the waters were feet above the pathway, and they rushed through, so that the great walls of rock shook as if they would fall in. There," he said, removing the mule's load and carrying it two or three yards back, to place it against the natural wall. "It will be quite safe there," he continued, with a smile; "nobody will come. Ah, Gros, my friend, is that cool and restful?" The mule whinnied, arched up its back, and shook itself, swung back its head, first one side then on the other, to bite at the hot place where the basket had been, but apparently without allaying the hot irritation which troubled it. "Ah! come along Gros," cried Melchior, twining the rope bridle about his arm; "that will soon be better. Follow pretty close, gentlemen: it is rather dark, but cool and pleasant after the hot sunshine." "Well done, Saxe!" said Dale, with a smile; "that's brave." "What is, sir? I did not say or do anything." "Yes, you did, boy," whispered Dale; and the lad flushed a little. "You bit your lips and then set your teeth, and you said to yourself, 'he sha'n't see that I am afraid!' Didn't you?" Saxe looked at him inquiringly, and took off his cap and wiped his brow, while his alpenstock rested in the hollow of his arm. "Something like it, sir," said Saxe, rather dolefully. "I couldn't help it." "Of course not." "Ach! Dummkopf! What do you do?" cried the guide angrily; for just at that moment the mule uttered a loud squeal, arched its back, and leaped off the rock; came down on all fours, and then threw itself upon its flanks, in spite of a jerk at the bridle; squealed again, and threw up its legs, which fell back against the rocky wall; threw them up again, and for a moment they were perpendicular, so well was the balance kept, as the animal wriggled its spine so as to get a good rub on the rock. Then, while the two travellers realised the danger of this taking place on the narrow platform, not a dozen feet above the rushing water, and Melchior still jerked at the bridle, over went the animal's legs toward the edge, and it tried to gather them up for another roll. It had another roll, but it was a roll off the edge, and almost before Dale and his companion could fully grasp the extent of the accident, the mule fell with a tremendous splash into the stream, jerking Melchior after it by the wrist. Then they both disappeared. But only for a few moments. "Look! look!" yelled Saxe, as the mule's head shot up in the shadow thirty or forty feet farther in, so swift was the current. Then up came its forelegs, and it began to paw the water like a drowning dog, just as Melchior rose to the surface, but only in time to receive the hoofs of the struggling mule on his chest, and he disappeared again, while the water rolled the mule over and down out of sight. The next moment both were swept right into the gloomy cavernous place, to what was evidently certain death. _ |
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