Something in the quiet tones of the voice stilled the tumult of Squib’s spirit, though it was rather terrible to hear the gathering avalanche rattling and bounding overhead, and to know that it was tearing down upon them like a live monster rushing after its prey. Suppose it were to fall upon them, even in this place, or break away the protecting rocks and bury them all amongst them! Squib felt a shiver run through him at the thought, and involuntarily he looked up at Herr Adler; and something he saw in that tranquil face put new ideas into his head, and suddenly some words came into his mind which took away all his fear.
“For He shall give His angels charge over thee.”
Yes, it said so in the Bible. Squib knew that, though he could not have found the place; and in his heart he said,—
“I am sure the angels will take care of Herr Adler. I won’t be afraid any more.”
Down, down, down—with a crash, and a bang, and a roar! How the mountain seemed to be shaking and quaking. It was like thunder roaring just over their heads. The air was full of choking dust; there was an awful crash just beyond them, and for a moment Squib had to fight for breath. He felt as though he were swallowing whole mouthfuls of gravel and earth. It was so dark all round them that he could not see anything. Then the sounds grew more distant; the air began to clear; and he heard Herr Adler’s voice saying softly,—
“Thank God, my children! we have been wonderfully preserved.”
Peter and Squib crept out of their hiding-place and looked about them. Everything was changed in the few minutes, and the path of the avalanche was marked by a wide track of freshly-fallen rock and ice and débris. Peter pointed eagerly to the still-rolling mass of snow and rock, dashing down to the very bottom of the valley; but Squib looked up at Herr Adler, and asked,—
“Are you sure you are not hurt?”
“Quite sure, my little friend. The wall of rock quite protected us; and not even a fragment of rock fell upon us. It was all shot several yards beyond our feet; but I am a terrible object to look at, I suspect. When we get to the woods, I must gather a bunch of heather or creeping-rose and give myself a brush down. Tell me, my child, were you afraid?”
“Rather,” answered Squib truthfully, as he took Herr Adler’s hand and walked onwards with him—Peter, as usual, keeping some thirty yards ahead; “I was frightened till I thought of that verse about the angels keeping watch—or having charge; and after that I didn’t mind so much. Herr Adler, do you think that angels do watch over us?”