“No; our work will be too hard for that, Gedge,” replied Bracy. “We must have as many hours’ heavy sleep as we can, or we shall never get to the Ghil Valley. The work to-day has been play to some of the climbing we shall have.”
“Yus, sir; I s’pose so,” said Gedge cheerily; “lot o’ uphill, o’ course.”
“Up mountain, my lad.”
“Yus, sir; only got in the way o’ calling all these snow-pynts hills; but it’ll be very fine; and after getting up one there must be some downhill on the other side. Do you know, sir, I’ve been reg’lar longing, like, ever since we come here, to go up a mountain—a reg’lar big one; but I didn’t think I should ever have the chance, and here it is come.”
Instead of rapidly growing darker a glorious sunset lit up cloud and mountain, till the peaks literally blazed and flashed with the colours of the various precious stones, wondrously magnified, till the ever-changing scene rose higher, fading rapidly, and only a few points burned as before. Then, in a minute, all was grey, and a peculiar sense of cold tempered the climbers’ brows.
“We shall just have time to reach that great patch of firs, Gedge,” said Bracy; “yonder, this side of the snow.”
“Right, sir, I see; but it’s a good two mile away.”
“Surely not,” said Bracy sceptically.
“’Tis, sir,” persisted the man. “Distances is precious deceiving.”
They kept on, with the gloom darkening rapidly now in the valleys, and the peaks in the distance standing up of a ghastly grey; while Gedge shook his head and said to himself: