The worst of it was, that Rudolf thus lost not only time, but his way also. A good deal of snow had fallen since his former expedition, and altered the aspect of the ground, making that appear solid which was unsubstantial, and creating mounds and hillocks out of snowdrifts. Besides, it was growing dusk, and the worst part of his journey lay before him. He thought he recognised a rock, which he might reach by cutting across what looked like an inclined plane. All at once, he felt the snow give way beneath him—he sank with great swiftness into an abyss of great depth, and profoundly dark. He was not hurt—merely shaken by his fall; but his perturbation was extreme, and his first thought, be it said to his praise, was not of himself, but of Hofer. He would be starved to death! Who would ever know, till too late, that Rudolf had never reached him?
The extremity roused him. He began to grope about with his hands, but could feel nothing but rough stones, and, here and there, what felt and smelt like bones. Moving a little onward, he perceived a small speck of white afar off, which, it struck him, was daylight. His eyes, now getting accustomed to the intense darkness, could discern even the faint twilight which, through some fissure, thus attracted him. He cautiously advanced, found his prison resolve itself into some sort of deep cavern; and, advancing to its mouth, saw it guarded by two huge bears! They were looking forth from the cave, without moving, which gave him time to decide on his course before they saw or scented him. Hastily enveloping himself anew in the white garment, and securing his precious basket to him by his red sash, he took a large stone in each hand, and, uttering a fearful yell, rushed from his retreat, extending his white drapery high above his head.
The bears, who certainly had never beheld such an apparition before, moved off in seeming trepidation; and soon, mending their pace into a clumsy trot, retreated into a neighbouring ravine.[E]
Rudolf, right glad to have dispersed his foes, wandered on amid enormous masses of variously tinted glaciers,—some deep blue, others sea-green, others dirty yellow,—resounding with the hollow roar of unseen waters; and here and there he encountered the dead bodies of stags, and other animals, not in a state of decomposition, but preserved by the cold in a shrivelled condition, like mummies.
Presently the path became a mere shelf, and, turning abruptly, disclosed a wide reach of valley at a tremendous depth beneath.
An Englishman's head might have spun, but Rudolf began to scramble upwards by what might be called some giant steps; and as these occasioned him one or two ugly slips, he coolly took off his boots, cut his feet with a flint, and let the blood flow from them, that its stickiness might enable his feet to adhere to the rock with more tenacity.
He was presently stopped by a broad and deep ridge of snow, which he found, on sounding, was likely to prove as infirm as that which had deposited him in the bears' cavern. But the trickling of water beneath the ice had made a crevice between the rock and the snow-bank; and along this Rudolf squeezed himself sideways, till he emerged at the foot of a glacier, dirty yellow without, but blue as lapis lazuli within. He painfully climbed another ridge by a zigzag course, and on through a wild glen of dripping, dreary rocks; while the fitful wintry blasts, sounding like the flappings of mighty wings among the crags, alone broke the awful silence.
Night was closing round him; he took many false steps, and repeatedly sank in snow to his waist. He was beginning to feel something like despair, when, lo! in a little rocky cup just below him, there lay the châlet of Hofer!