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The Crystal Hunters: A Boy's Adventures in the Higher Alps, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 40. In The Ice-Cave |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY. IN THE ICE-CAVE The sun was shining brightly on as lovely a morning as had fallen to their lot since they had been in the Alps; and upon Saxe springing up, his first act was to go up to the spring for his morning wash, and also to look at the stone which had so strongly resembled a head. There was the clear basin from which he had drunk, and there were the places where he had rested his hands; but there was no stone that could by any possibility have looked like a head even in the darkness, and he returned at last to the tent feeling strangely uncomfortable, and in no good condition for his breakfast. "Come, Saxe," cried Dale, as he sat eating his bread and fried bacon. "Didn't you sleep well? Not unwell, are you?" "I? No--oh no! Why?" "Because you are making a very poor meal, and it will be many hours before we eat again." Saxe went on with his breakfast; but somehow he did not enjoy it, and his thoughts were either occupied with the terrible face which stood out clear before him as he had seen it the previous night, or he was asking himself whether he should not take Melchior into his confidence, and ask him his opinion about what he had seen. "I shall not want to stop here to-night," he said to himself. "It is too horrible to feel that a hideous creature like that is always close at hand." "Now, then," cried Dale, breaking in upon his meditations; "pack up, and let's start for the bottom of the glacier. How long will it take us?" "Nearly two hours, herr." "We'll have some provisions for lunch, and take the big hammer and chisel: I shall want the rock marked, so that I can examine it when I come next year, or the year after." The orders were obeyed, the tent closed up, water and fuel placed ready for their return, and Melchior led off with the mule to cut across a corner before descending to the edge of the ice. Before they had gone a dozen yards there was a loud b-a-ah! from overhead, and the goat came bounding down from rock to rock in the most breakneck fashion; but it ended by leaping into their track, and ran up and butted its head against Saxe. "How friendly that animal has become!" said Saxe, as they walked on, with the goat munching away and trotting beside them; till Dale said suddenly, "Here--we do not want it with us: send it back." Saxe drove the goat away, but it took his movements as meaning play, and danced and skipped, and dodged him and then dashed by, and on ahead, the same gambols taking place at every attempt to send the animal back. "There--let it be," cried Dale at last: "you'll tire yourself out before we fairly start. Why, it follows us like a dog! Perhaps it will get tired soon, and go back." But the goat seemed to have no such intention, and it would have been a difficult task to tire out the active creature, which was now tickling the mule's ribs with one of its horns, now scrambling up some steep piece of rock, now making tremendous leaps, and trotting on again as calmly as if it were thoroughly one of the party. In due time the foot of the great glacier was reached, after a difficult scramble down the steep, smoothly polished rocks which shut it in on either side. Here the mule was unloaded by a shabby amount of pasture, ice-axes and hammers seized, and the trio started over the level bed of the glacier streams, the main rivulet dividing into several tiny veins, which spread over the soft clayey earth brought down by the water. But this soon gave place to rock as they neared the piled-up ice, which looked to Saxe like huge masses of dull white chalk, veined in every direction with blue. As they advanced the rock became more and more smooth, looking as if the ice had only lately shrunk from its surface, but, on Melchior being referred to, he shook his head. "Not in my time, herr. The ice is creeping farther down the valley every year." "Well," said Dale; "we'll try and find out the rate of its progress by scoring the rock." This was done in several places as they advanced toward the low arch of ice from which the stream poured forth; and Saxe rather shrank from this task, as it seemed to promise a long wade in chilling water. But as they came close up, it was to find ample room beneath the glacier to pick their way in over the rock, with the stream on their right, where it had worn itself a channel in the course of ages. Dale became immediately deeply interested in the structure of the ice and the state of the rock beneath the arch, at whose entrance he paused, while the guide under his instruction chipped marks at the edge of the stream by which he could test the rate of progress of the glacier. This was very interesting from a scientific point of view; but it soon grew tedious to Saxe, who began to penetrate a little farther into the lovely blue grotto, whose roof was a succession of the most delicate azure tints. "Don't go in too far alone," said Dale, looking up. "No: I shall not go too far," replied Saxe; "and, besides, I am not alone." He nodded laughingly toward the goat, which had followed him in without hesitation, sniffing at the running water, and then throwing up its horned head to gaze onward into the blue haze from which came the gurglings and strange whisperings of the water. "Well, I may as well go on a little bit," thought Saxe; and cautiously advancing, so as not to step down some horrible rock split, he went forward rapt in wonder at the beauty of the scene, as at the end of a few yards the passage curved round so that the opening became invisible, and he was gazing at the glorious rays of light which shot right by him, all tinted with celestial blue. "It is glorious," he thought; and then he gave quite a start, for the goat beside him suddenly set up a loud bleat and began to advance farther beneath the glacier, its pattering hoofs on the stone sounding loudly above the water. "Here, you: stop! Come back," cried Saxe: "you'll be tumbling down some hole. Do you hear?" If the goat did hear, it paid no heed, but went on; and as the way seemed to be safe in the dim blue light, Saxe followed, till from twilight it began to grow purply-black before he had nearly overtaken the goat, which uttered a mournful baa, and stopped short, as a good-sized lump of ice flew by its head, and smashed upon the rock; and as the goat still advanced, another and another came flying. Saxe retreated horrified and startled, to reach the spot where the others were, breathless and pale. "Hullo! What's the matter?" "The ice is falling in. Come out." "Nonsense!" cried Dale. "It is; or else lumps are flying out from inside; and the goat and I were nearly hit." Dale looked at the guide, who shook his head. "Some ice might fall farther in," he said; "but pieces could not come flying out." "Of course not," said Dale, returning to his observations. "Go in and see." It was on Saxe's lips to say, "Never again!" for his thoughts flew back to his last night's experience; but just then the goat bleated, looked inquiringly along the blue winding cavern, with its amethystine roof, and began to advance. "There you are, Saxe," cried Dale: "go after that goat and turn her back, or she'll lose herself, and there'll be no milk for tea." Saxe felt obliged to go now; and, calling himself a coward to be afraid to enter that long cellar-like place, he walked boldly in after the goat, turned the corner where the arch of light was left behind, with the two fingers busy chipping and measuring, and went on. The goat looked very indistinct now, then it disappeared in the purple gloom; and it was only by listening to the pat-pat of its hoofs on the stone that Saxe could satisfy himself that it was going forward, and that there was no dangerous fall awaiting him. Then the goat bleated again, and _crick_, _crack_, _crash_, came the sound of pieces of ice striking the walls and floor. The goat came bounding back, followed by another piece of ice, which broke close to Saxe's feet, as he turned and took flight once more. "Hullo!--back! Why, you look scared, boy!" "There is ice falling or flying out." Dale laughed; and this put the boy upon his mettle, as he now argued with himself that help was very near. "I want the lanthorn," he said aloud. "What for?" "To go and see what it is." "That's right. Give him the lanthorn, Melchior. We'll follow him directly." The guide swung the lanthorn round from where it hung at his belt, detached it, lit it; and, with the confidence afforded by the light, Saxe grasped his ice-axe firmly, and walked right in, preceded once more by the goat. The mingling of the light with the amethystine gloom had a very beautiful effect, as the former flashed from the surface of the walls and made the ice glitter; but Saxe had no eyes then for natural beauties. He could think of nothing but the flying lumps of ice, and, oddly enough, the remembrance of the horrible head which he had seen in the night now came strongly back. But he went on, and, if not boldly, at any rate with a fixed determination to see the adventure to the end. Saxe was able to penetrate farther this time, with the goat pattering on before him; and to show that there was no fancy in the matter, the light flashed from some broken fragments of ice lying close beside the rushing stream. But though he held the lanthorn high above his head, he could see nothing, only the dim arch, the line of shining water, and the pale stony floor. Just ahead, though, the stream took a sudden bend round to the left, and the dry portion of the stone taking the same direction, Saxe went on, involuntarily raising his axe as if there might be danger round beyond that bend where the ice projected like a buttress. He was close upon it now, and, holding the light well up with his left hand, he was in the act of turning the corner, when something moved out of the darkness on the other side, and Saxe stood once more petrified with horror as the light fell upon the huge face he had seen in the night, but hideously distorted, and with the glowing bloodshot eyes within six inches of his own. _ |
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