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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 18. Saxe Has Suspicions |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. SAXE HAS SUSPICIONS "Do we go the same way?" said Saxe, as they started up the track out of the valley, Gros far more heavily laden this time--having, beside food enough for some days, a handy tent just large enough to shelter three; waterproof sheet, rugs, ice-axes, and a coil of new English rope which made the guide's eyes glisten. "No, herr," Melchior answered--"only for a short distance. Then we shall strike up to the east and go over the Carvas Pass into the Urs Thal." "Urseren?" said Dale quickly. "Oh no, herr! not a bleak green hollow like that, but a wild ravine in the heart of the mountain. It lies next but one to the valley beyond the peak you climbed." "Ah! that sounds better. Is it much visited?" "Never, herr, except by the chamois hunters, and very seldom by them." "And you think we shall find what I want there?" "I cannot say, herr. Such crystals as you seek are not often discovered. They are very rare. But we shall see. Steady, Gros, steady! Don't hurry, boy. Slow and sure: these stones are slippery." "Slippery! Yes," cried Dale, stepping forward quickly, and then giving a glance up to right and left at the walls of rock rising on either side. "Look at this, Saxe: we must not pass things like these without notice. Wait a minute, Melchior." "Yes, herr; but there are bigger and smoother pieces farther up the valley." "Do they extend far?" "Right up to the top of the pass, herr, and down the other side." Saxe looked over at the huge mass of smoothly polished stone across which the mule had been picking its way, taking longer steps to get its hoofs on the narrow cracks and places where veins of a softer kind of rock had in the course of ages corroded away. "Why, I thought you said that very few people came along here?" said Saxe suddenly, as Dale bent down here and there to examine the stone. "I did, herr. Nobody uses this pass. There is no need. It is very difficult, and leads away up to the everlasting snow." "Then, Melchior, how is it that the stones are worn so much?" The guide shook his head. "It is as if a river had run along here," he said. "I suppose it is the rain that has slowly worn it so." "No," said Dale, with the voice of authority, "it is the ice." "No, herr; there is no ice here. A great deal of snow comes down from the great stock up yonder, and from the valley between Piz Accio and Piz Nero, here on the right--avalanches of snow. We could not walk along here in March; it would be madness. But it soon wastes, and is washed away." "No, Melchior, it is not snow or water that has smoothed all this, but ice. There must have been a huge glacier all along here." The guide shook his head. "Look, man," cried Dale, "it is written on the stones;" and he pointed to those beneath them, and then to others high up, which presented the same appearance. "The stones and rocks are worn smooth, herr; but I never heard my father or grandfather speak of ice in this valley." "No," said Dale quietly, "and your grandfather never heard his ancestors speak of it, nor they in turn, right back to the most remote times of history; but, all the same, a huge glacier must have filled the whole of this valley, sixty or seventy feet above where we stand." "A very long time ago, then, herr." "Who can say how many ages? Glaciers shrink and melt away in time. The one in the other valley has retired a good deal." "Ah, yes, herr--hundreds of yards. Old people say it once came nearly to Andregg's chalet." "To be sure; and how do the rocks look where it has retired?" "Rubbed smooth, like this, herr." "Of course; and there is no denying this fact. It must have been a mighty glacier indeed." They went after the mule up the valley, content to follow the animal's guidance; and invariably, as Melchior pointed out, Gros picked out the best path. As they went right on the valley contracted, and the sides, which towered up more and more perpendicularly, displayed the peculiar, smooth, polished look, just as if masses of stone had constantly ground against their sides. "Now, Saxe, look here," cried Dale, suddenly pausing by a great mass of grey stone. "Here is a proof that I am right." "Is it? I don't see." "Do you, Melchior?" "No, herr. The stone is very big." "Yes. How did it come here?" "Oh, it must have rolled down from the rock up yonder." "If it had rolled down from the rock up yonder, it would have been a piece of that rock!" "Of course, herr. Here are plenty of pieces," and he touched them with the handle of his ice-axe. "Yes, you are right," said Dale, picking up a great fragment; "and you can see this is the same kind of stone as that which towers up here over our heads." "Yes, herr." "But this great block is a different kind of stone, is it not!" Melchior looked at the vast mass, and said at once: "Yes, herr, of course. It is the grey hard stone that they use for building bridges." "Well, where did it come from! There is none up here to right or left." "No, herr--none." "It could not have been brought here by man." Melchior laughed. "No; a hundred horses could not have dragged it along a hard road." "But it has been brought here, you see, all the same. Now, where is the nearest place where we could find stone like that!" "Oh, on the Domberg, herr, at the head of the pass. We shall go beneath it six hours from here." "Exactly, Melchior," cried Dale. "That proves what I say. This huge mass of granite must have fallen from the Domberg on to the glacier which once filled this limestone valley, and have been gradually carried down and left here. Such a glacier as the one which polished all these rocks could easily have brought down that block; and when in bygone ages the ice melted, this block was left here. I dare say we shall find more like it." "Oh yes, herr, there are many," said Melchior, thoughtfully examining the stone and then picking up other pieces to compare with it. "The herr's words seem like truth, but I should never have thought of that." "It took, too, long thought and study of some of our greatest men to find it out," said Dale, "and I am glad to have come to a valley which shows all we have read so plainly." "Stop! take care!" shouted Melchior, as a strange rushing sound was heard high up on their right; and directly after a large stone came bounding down the slope, fell on the smooth rocks before them, and smashed to atoms. Melchior stood looking up, shading his eyes. "That is curious," he said thoughtfully. "I do not know why that stone should have fallen." "Loosened by the frost, man." "No, herr. It could not have come from high enough. There is no ice up there. You have to pass another valley first. The high mountain is beyond it, and the stones would fall into the next valley." "It must have been loosened, then, by the rain." "Perhaps, herr; but it is more likely that a goat--No, there are no goats pastured so far up as this, and no man could be travelling up there. Herr, would you like to shoot a chamois?" "Indeed I should; but we have no gun." "No, herr, I forgot: we have no gun. But that must have been a chamois. We are getting into the wild region where they live, though this is low down for them." "But surely," said Dale, "they would get no pasture higher up?" "Only in patches, herr. They have been so persecuted by the hunters that they live constantly amongst the ice and snow and in the most solitary spots. But I cannot understand about that stone falling." "Well, it doesn't matter," said Saxe. "It did not hit either of us, and you said they often fell in the mountains." "Yes herr, but not like that." They went on for the next two hours in silence, while the pass they were following grew more and more wild, but it opened out a little during the next hour, but only to contract again. And here, in a secluded place beneath one of the vast walls of rock which shut them in, and beside a tiny rivulet which came bubbling and foaming down, the guide suggested a short halt and refreshment. Dale agreed, and Saxe doubly agreed, helping to lift the pannier from the mule's back, when the patient animal indulged in a roll, drank a little water, and then began to browse on such tender shoots and herbage as it could find. The bread and cheese were produced, and all were seated enjoying their alfresco meal, when once more from up to their right a stone as big as a man's head came crashing down, to fall not far away. So near was it that it startled the mule, who trotted a little on out of danger before beginning again to graze. Melchior had sprung to his feet at once, leaped away for a short distance, and stood shading his eyes again, and scanning the rocky face of the precipice on their right--that is, just above their heads. "Well, what do you make of it?" cried Dale,--"a landslip?" "No, herr; there is no landslip." "Is it the advance-guard of an avalanche?" "Without snow, herr? No." "Come and eat your bread and cheese, Melk," cried Saxe; "it is only a loose stone tumbled down, and no one was hit." "But I cannot eat, herr, with the knowledge that some one is hurling down stones upon our heads. Do you know that either of those falling stones would have killed us?" "Yes, but they did not hit us," said Saxe. "But surely there is no one up there to hurl down stones?" said Dale. "I don't know, herr," said the guide, shaking his head. "But you said you thought it was a chamois," cried Saxe. "I did, herr, but I'm afraid I was wrong. I am not a believer in such things; but some of our people would say that the spirits of the mountains are displeased with us for coming here, and are throwing stones to drive us back." "They're pretty strong, then, to throw such stones as that," said Saxe, with his mouth full of Swiss cheese. "Yes," said Dale, looking at the stone which had fallen; "and they take very bad aim--eh, Saxe?" "Awfully: I could do better than that. Why, if I were up there I believe I could hit either of you." "But it might be only to frighten us," said Melchior seriously. "Why, Melchior, my man, surely you do not believe in such childish nonsense as that?" "No, herr, not when I have English gentlemen with me; but there are times on the mountains, when I am quite alone and I hear noises that I cannot understand, that I do get fancying strange things, and all the old stories I have heard as a boy come back to me." "And then you say to yourself, 'I am a man who puts his trust in reason, and shall not let myself be scared by silly tales.'" "Well, yes, herr, something of the kind," replied the guide, smiling. "There goes another stone!" cried Saxe, as a smaller one fell about fifty yards farther on. "Yes," said the guide; "and it is as if somebody were climbing along there, near the edge of the rocks, and sent them down." "Ah! that's more like an explanation," cried Dale, laughing. "Somebody. Yes, you must be right. Somebody with feet and hands, like ourselves. Can you see who it is?" "No, herr," said Melchior, after a long examination; "and it puzzles me, for who could be climbing along up there?" Dale shrugged his shoulders. "Impossible to say." "Yes, herr, it is impossible to say," said Melchior, who was still watching the precipice; and he was now joined by Saxe. "You see, anybody who wished to get along the pass would come down here." "But there may be a path up yonder." "No, herr, there is none, or I should have known of it years ago. I have been up there, and it is so perilous that no one but a bold climber could get along. Well, it is one of the many things I have seen and heard in the mountains that I could not understand. Shall we go on, herr?" "Yes, and we'll keep a sharp look-out," said Saxe. "You may," cried Dale; "but you will find it is something perfectly simple--a stray foot, if the stone is not loosened by the weather." Ten minutes later they were trudging on over the rough ground, with the valley growing wilder and more strange; presenting, too, plenty of clefts and openings to ravines which Dale felt disposed to stop and explore; but Melchior was always ready with the same form of speech. "Wait, herr," he said. "It would only be labour in vain. We'll go on till I get you into the parts where none but the most venturesome guides have been. If crystals are to be found, it will be there." "What's that?" said Saxe suddenly, pointing upwards. His companions looked at once in the direction indicated, and saw nothing particular. "Does the young herr mean that strangely shaped thing!" "No, no. Something ran across there hundreds of feet up, where that bit of a ledge is in front of the pale brown patch of stones." "A marmot, perhaps," said Melchior; "there are many of the little things about here." "But this was not a little thing," cried Saxe impatiently. "It was something big as a goat. I thought it was a man." "Up yonder, herr?" said Melchior. "No man could run along up there. It would be slow, careful climbing, and a slip would send the climber headlong down into the valley here. From where you say, is quite a thousand feet." "It must have been a goat, then, or a chamois," said Saxe. "I cannot say, herr," replied the guide rather solemnly, and as if he had faith in the possibility of something "no canny" being at the bottom of the mystery. But the rest of their day's journey, as mapped out for them by Melchior, was achieved without further adventure, and some ten hours after their start in the morning he halted them high up among the mountains, in a little rock amphitheatre, surrounded by peaks, which looked gigantic in the solemn evening light. But the need of the ordinary animal comforts of life took all romantic thought out of Saxe's brain, and he busily set to work helping to light a fire with the wood the guide had brought. Then, while the kettle was getting hot, all three busied themselves in setting up the tiny tent, anchoring it by means of its lines to stones, as soft a spot as could be found having been selected, for they were far above the pines, and the prospect of getting anything suitable for a bed was very small--even moss proving scarce. However, a rug spread beneath them saved them from some of the asperities of the rocky ground, and after they had partaken of their evening meal and taken a short peep round the huge hollow, which promised admirably for exploration next day, "good nights" were said, and Saxe lay down for his first test of what it would be like to sleep under the shelter of a thin tent eight thousand feet above the level of the sea. "Is there any need to keep watch up here?" asked Dale. "Oh no, herr; not the slightest." "Then welcome sleep to my weary bones," said Dale, as he stretched himself out; and soon after, as the stars came out, they were all sleeping peacefully, but only to be aroused just after midnight by a most unearthly scream--a cry loud enough to make every one spring at once to his feet and nearly upset the tiny tent. _ |
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