She made an opportunity to tackle Peter anew on the subject, asking fuller details about the nature of the proposed descent, and the reasons for his uneasiness. Peter's explanations were the reverse of comforting.
Very much more quickly than they had gone up, they regained the little hotel on the shore of the Oeschinensee. No sooner were they there, than Bee made straight for the telescope. She called Peter, got him to show her by which way the English gentlemen had planned to descend, and found that, from her present position, the entire route from the col—including a risky descent towards a very undesirable bergshrund, the nature of which he had already enlarged upon—could be swept by the glass.
Whether they had yet passed in safety that yawning chasm, Bee could not know, Peter could not tell her. If they had not, there was no reason why she should not actually watch their progress, could she but once "locate" them—or, as she expressed it, "get hold of them."
A good hour went by, during which she searched in vain. The guide wished to continue their descent to Kandersteg; and Amy was growing impatient; but neither of them could induce Bee to stir.
"I can't just yet," she pleaded. "There is no hurry. I have such a feeling that something is wrong. Do let me try a little longer. Yes—it may be all fancy—but I want to make sure."
Remonstrances fell on deaf ears. The usually compliant girl was resolute. She said little, but she clung to her post.
"What an imagination you have!" pettishly complained Amy, who by this time was both tired and cross. Yet still Bee gazed, searching the white slopes, regardless of her own or the other's fatigue.
"Just a little longer, Amy! I shall find them soon. I am sure I shall. If you cannot wait, please go on with Abraham; and I'll follow with Peter."
"Thanks. If I go, I'd rather have Peter. Of course I don't mean to leave you. But it is such nonsense!"
"Peter must wait, in case anything is wrong. He would have to go and help them."