“Haven’t had time to see yet,” said Saxe gruffly. “Here are my trousers got right up my legs.”
“No skin off your knuckles?”
“I think not,” said Saxe. “Are you all right? But what did it?”
“You.”
“No. There must have been something sticking up out of the enow to upset me: a piece of rock, I think.”
“You’ll think differently after a few more tries,” said Dale, laughing; and returned to see how Melchior was getting down with the mule.
They were coming far more gently, the mule having tucked its hind legs close beneath it, and slid steadily down, while by means of his ice-axe Melchior regulated his pace to that of the quadruped, till they, too, were at the bottom.
“Saxe thinks there was a piece of rock sticking out of the snow ready to upset him,” cried Dale.
“Hush! Don’t make him laugh at a fellow,” said the boy hurriedly.
Melchior smiled.