"You will go—will you not?" implored Bee.
"It is so. Mees may rest assured. All shall be done that man can do. They shall not be left to perish." Three minutes longer he studied the far-off scene.
"Peter—tell me—which Herr is it that has fallen?" She put the question faintly; and in her heart she chided herself for hoping that it might be Magda's brother—poor Magda!—and not the other.
"Ach! How can I tell?"
"Is he—is he—dead?"
Peter stood up. "We must not waste the time, Mees, in talk. It is that we must act. You, ladies, will wait here—is it not so?—till a rescue-party shall return from going to the Herren?"
"Yes, yes—only don't delay!" pleaded Bee.
Two other guides had happily arrived within the last hour from an expedition with three ladies, who at once agreed to manage the rest of their descent under the leadership of their porter, since they were unable to wait. A hurried consultation then took place; and it was decided that the three guides should start immediately, taking ropes and restoratives, and going by the shortest possible route. Peter, from his intimate knowledge of the district, had divined that one of the "Herren" must have fallen into the bergshrund, though he would not say as much to Bee. He knew too well what it might mean.
For Beatrice there followed a period of suspense, such as she had never before gone through. The hours seemed endless. It was not her way to talk of what she felt. All she wanted was to be left alone, that she might carry on her watch, silently praying. Afterwards, when she looked back, she knew that her whole being had been concentrated into one continuous wordless petition.
Amy really was sorry, now that she knew true cause for fear to exist. But her anxiety was moderate and impersonal; while to Bee it seemed that all joy in life hung upon the result of the guides' expedition.