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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 15. Caught In A Trap |
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_ CHAPTER FIFTEEN. CAUGHT IN A TRAP The mist on the mountain had not been without its meaning, and a heavy persistent rain kept them all the next day close in under the shelter of the rock, where the fire had to be lighted too, and after a great deal of difficulty this was accomplished by Melchior getting a few stout dead branches and bringing them under cover. These he whittled into shavings, and these shavings served to start the green pine boughs which had formed their beds; and once a pretty good glow was obtained, with plenty of embers, the wetness of the branches brought under cover mattered very little, especially as the guide ranged them close to the fire to dry, ready against they were required; and had contrived that the blinding smoke should sweep right out at once, a few broad branched boughs stuck in the ground or propped upright helping to establish a draught. The feeling of restfulness and the hot coffee were sufficient to make the first hour tolerable, in spite of the constant dripping of the trees and the rush of water down from the natural eaves of their shelter; but after a time it began to grow monotonous. The outlook was not extensive either, for beyond the thick driving rain the hollows were filled with dense mist, and the mountains around were quite invisible; and Saxe turned from gazing out between two little shoots of water to look rather appealingly at Dale. "What's the matter, Saxe?" said the latter. "It's so horribly wet." "Well, it's wet everywhere sometimes. Sit down near the fire and rest. You'll be all the better for it when the rain is over." "But it looks as if it never would be over." "But it will be. There: help keep up the fire, and be patient. We can't always be climbing." "I say, look at that," cried Saxe, laughing; for just then the mule, which had been grazing a short distance away, troubling itself not in the slightest degree about the rain, came slowly towards them, with its shaggy coat looking as if it had been oiled, and the water trickling from it in streams, as if it were a walking reservoir filled a little too full. It was evident that it considered the rain a little too heavy now, for it thrust its head under cover, and blinked for a few moments at the fire before giving itself a tremendous shake, sending the water flying from its ears, and then drooped them low down, as if holding them out to the fire to dry. In this position its head was in shelter, but the rain streamed down upon its back and hind quarters, while a perfect deluge, like that from a waterspout, ran down a long gully in the overhanging rock right on to the spine just between the shoulders, and there divided to trickle on either side down the fore legs, and then run down through the pine needles, which formed too thick a bed for any of the water to make a pool. To the surprise of all, the mule was perfectly satisfied so long as it could keep its head and ears in the warmth and shelter, and never once attempted to creep in nearer; and so another hour passed, only broken by the low murmur of Dale's voice as he talked to the guide, and the plash and rush of water. For the dripping was drowned now by the enormous amount which fell, and this went on increasing till there was quite a heavy roar, as of many falls. "Is that anything?" said Saxe at last, as a low booming noise fell upon their ears--a sound which gradually increased. "A waterfall," said Melchior. "The waters on the mountains are gathering together and plunging into the valley. Listen, and you can hear others," he continued, as he held up his hand. From apparently close at hand what sounded like the echo of the first fall could be heard, and beyond that, farther away, another, and again another, and so on, fainter and fainter, till the whole valley seemed to be filled with the noise of rushing waters. It was somewhat awe-inspiring, and suggested the possibility of a great flood coming down upon them to sweep everything away; but at the hint of such a catastrophe Melchior shook his head. "Oh no," he said. "If we were on the bank of a big stream that might be, and we should have to climb up to a place of safety; but here the waters divide a hundred ways, and will never reach us. Hah!--snow." He held up his hand as a rushing noise was heard somewhere high up among the dense mists. This rapidly increased to a terrific roar, followed by a deep booming crash; and so tremendous was the sound, that the noise of the falling waters seemed for the moment to be hushed. Then the thunderous crash rolled right away among the mountains, dying in faint echoes, and the rush of the waterfalls filled the air once more. "A heavy avalanche, Melchior," said Dale. "Yes, herr; there is a great deal of snow up in the mountains, and this will make more." "What, this rain?" said Saxe. "It is snow a thousand feet up, herr. When the clouds pass away you will see." Melchior's words were correct, for toward evening the rain ceased quite suddenly, and the sun broke through the mists, which rolled their way up the mountain sides as if to reach the snow peaks. And all the lower slopes were now powdered with newly fallen snow, where they had been green on the previous day. Every tiny-looking cascade had been turned into a furious torrent, whose waters came leaping and bounding down from far on high, one running into another, till the last was vastly swollen and plunged into the valley, to turn its stream into quite a large river for a few hours. "Well?" said Dale, inquiringly, as he returned with Saxe from watching the rush of waters and the beauty of the fresh snow. "Well, herr?" said the guide quietly. "What do you think? Could we start back now and get to Andregg's chalet to-night?" "It is not impossible, herr; but the walking would be slippery and bad, every stream so swollen that they would be dangerous to wade, and the distance is so great that--" "Well, go on. Why do you stop?" "I had forgotten the schlucht, herr. We could not get through there. It would be terribly swollen. The water is close up to or over the path, and--No, I should not like to be answerable for your safety. No, herr, we must wait till to-morrow." "But we shall not have enough to eat," said Saxe. "Plenty, though only simple," said Dale, smiling. "Come, Saxe, that's not like talking like a mountaineer. To-morrow morning, then: will that do, Melchior?" "I think so, herr. I am sure about our way to the mouth of the schlucht. Then we can see." The morning dawned with the different falls wonderfully reduced; and after a breakfast that was exactly what Dale had said overnight, an early start was made, so that they were well on their way by the time that the sun began to tinge the tops of the mountains, which, seen now from a different point of view, seemed more beautiful than before. Then by degrees the various familiar parts came into sight, till they neared and descended into the open valley along which the river ran, and at last came to a halt close to the mouth of the gorge, where the fount gushed down and joined the water at their feet. The horror and dread they had felt came back to their memories as they gazed down at the murky stream, rushing furiously along, now evidently many feet deeper than when they had passed that way; and Melchior drew their attention to the fact that it must have been much higher up the rocks on the previous day. "What do you think of it?" asked Dale. "There is a great deal of water, herr; but I think the path will be all clear. Now it is so full, the water will flow more quietly." "But the mule: do you think you can get it through?" "Oh yes, herr." "But suppose it falls from one of these narrow places?" said Saxe excitedly. "Oh, then we should have to go back and get it ashore, and try again, herr. Gros knows the way by water." "But surely that animal will never get through, Melchior?" "Oh yes, herr. Certainly he has no hands, but his feet are as true, or truer, than a man's. You will see he will get through. And I shall carry the basket; it is light now. You see I can shift it as I like,-- he cannot." "Well, you know best," said Dale. "How do you feel for the journey, Saxe?" "Don't like it," said the lad bluntly, "but I'm ready. It isn't so bad as what we did up the mountain." "No: you are getting your head, my boy, fast. Ready, Melchior?" "Yes, unless the herr likes to sit down and rest for half an hour first." "By no means," cried Dale. "We should be thinking of the ugly bit of work we have to do--eh, Saxe?" "Yes, let's go on at once, please. I don't like waiting." "How shall you go--leading the mule or driving it?" asked Dale. "Neither, herr. I shall tell him to go on, and he will lead us." The guide shouldered the basket, which was somewhat lightened by Dale and Saxe each taking out some of their belongings and slinging them on by straps. Then Melchior led the mule down to the ledge at the opening, said a few encouraging words, and waited. The mule hesitated. The water was right over the track here, and the animal bent down, sniffed and pawed at it as if uneasy; but a few more words from Melchior made it go on a few steps very slowly, and continually trying its way, so as to get a good foothold before going on, and acting in a wonderfully human way by pressing itself very close to the rock. "I hardly think we ought to venture, Melchior," said Dale. "Oh yes, herr. We know the extent of the danger. Gros swims like a dog, and you know he was none the worse for the last fall." "Go on, then." The mule was already going on. Finding the water more shallow on the ledge, it progressed with a little confidence, for the ledge eloped upward, and it could see the damp stone clear of the water a short distance on. "There, herr, you see," said the guide, after they had waded with the water just over their boots to the clear stone ledge along which the mule went on steadily now, "there is nothing to mind here." "I am glad you think so," said Dale, shouting loudly, to make his voice heard beyond Saxe, who was between, and they were getting now within reach of the reverberating roar of the torrent. Saxe glanced down as they passed the angles and gradually entered the semi-darkness, and saw that the surface of the water was smoother, and that, as they passed the waves formed by the water being hurled against the opposing faces of the rock, there was less foam and turmoil; but these places looked, if anything, more terrible than before, and the water, as it surged up so much nearer his feet, looked to his excited vision as if stealthily writhing towards him to lap round his legs like some huge serpent, and snatch him down into the depths. Conversation was impossible, but the guide shouted a few words of encouragement to the mule, and from time to time waited for Saxe to come close up, when he shouted an inquiry or two in his ear. "Yes, all right," cried Saxe, who gained encouragement from the calm matter-of-fact way in which the guide went on; while, just dimly-seen as the gorge curved and wound, the mule trudged on, twitching its ears and evidently caring nothing for the turmoil and rush just below. "I half wish he had proposed the rope, though," thought Saxe, as they went on, with the various familiar parts seeming terrible enough, but very different to when he came through with the horrible feeling that Melchior was lost, and that at any moment they might see his body whirling round in one of the pools. These were not so striking now, for in most of the places, as he peered down through the gloom and mist, the water was above the overhanging, cavernous holes, and the peculiar eye-like aspect of the one particular spot which had fascinated him so deeply was entirely hidden. "It wasn't such a very great thing, after all, for Melchior to do," he thought, as they went on. "He has had plenty of practice, and had been before. I believe I could go through by myself." "But I shouldn't like to," he added, after a few moments' thought; for he had to go along more carefully, in obedience to a sign from Melchior, the rock being slippery as they descended lower in the part they had now reached, and it suddenly dawned upon him that the water must have been over where he stood not perhaps many hours before. It had the effect of coming up higher, and he was startled for the moment, fancying that the flood was rising; but he grew confident as he saw the mule clearly now, where the gorge wound off to the left and then turned again to the right, so that as the mule passed the corner and disappeared the water was only a few inches below its hoofs. Then Melchior passed round and out of sight, and Saxe's own turn came, and he followed into one of the gloomiest parts of the rift. And here the ledge still descended slowly till the water began to wash over the path; then, as he looked anxiously forward, he could dimly see that at every step the water splashed beneath the animal's hoofs, and the next minute it was standing still, with the guide close up behind. Saxe stopped short, after feeling his way for a step or two with the handle of his ice-axe, while he leaned a little against the steep wall; and Dale came up and touched his shoulder, bending down to shout in his ear. "I can't see from here. Is the path more covered where they are?" "I don't know,--I think so," Saxe shouted back, his voice seeming to be swept away by the rushing noise that appeared to accompany the water as it hurried along. The guide's figure was indistinct in the mist of spray, and the mule's seemed lost in the rock, so similar were they in tone; but the spectators could just make out that Melchior was doing all he could short of blows to urge the mule on, and that it was stubbornly refusing to stir. "You must go on, or let me pass you, Saxe," shouted Dale: "I want to speak to the guide." "It gets deeper here," cried Saxe: "it's over my ankles, and the water feels like ice." "Never mind,--go on; keep as close to the wall as you can. Shall I get by you?" "No," said Saxe stoutly; "I'll try." He waded along the shelf, with the water getting deeper still; and now he could feel the curious sensation of the rushing stream bearing against his legs, which were immersed half-way to his knees; and at every step he cautiously sounded, to make sure where he should plant his feet. Before he had gone many paces, Melchior had returned to meet him; and as Dale closed up the guide shouted: "I can't get him along, sir, and I dare not make him restive by a blow." "No, no--of course not. But the water?" "It is deeper farther on, herr--I think about a foot--and he will not move." "It is impossible to back him, of course?" "Oh yes, herr; and he cannot turn." "Then we must get by him and go on and leave him to follow." "Impossible, herr," yelled Melchior. "If we tried he might kick." "Go and coax him." "It is no use, herr. The poor beast is right. He says in his way that it is not safe to go on, and that we must wait." "Wait in a place like this!" cried Dale. "The water is icy, and the noise deafening. Can you recollect how much the path goes down beyond the mule?" "I don't think it goes down at all, herr." "Then the water must be rising," cried Dale excitedly; and the guide nodded. "We must not be caught in this terrible trap. I thought the water was sinking." "It was, herr; but there must have been a fresh fall of rain at the other end of the lake, and it is rising now fast." _ |
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