“You are right, Melchior,” he said; “I shall never widen it like this.”
“Why try, herr? I can show you holes already large enough for us to get in.”
“You know for certain of such places?”
“I cannot tell you exactly where they are now, but I have seen them in the mountains!”
“In the mountains?”
“Well, then, right in these mountains, I feel sure. Let us go on and try. If we do not find a better place we know where this is, and can try it another time.”
“Go on, then,” said Dale, rather reluctantly; and they continued climbing, with the rock towering up on one side, the ice curving over on the other, and rising in the middle of the glacier to a series of crags and waves and smooth patches full of cracks, in which lay blocks of granite or limestone that had been tumbled down from the sides or far up toward the head of the valley ages before.
They had not progressed far before the guide pointed out another crack in the rock fringed with gem-like crystals, and then another and another, but all out of reach without chipping steps in the stone—of course a most arduous task.
“All signs that we are in the right formation, Saxe,” said Dale more hopefully, after they had toiled on up the side of the glacier for about a couple of hours; and they stood watching Melchior, who had mounted on to the ice to see if he could find better travelling for them.
“Yes,” he shouted—“better here;” and the others climbed up and joined him, to find that the surface was much smoother, and that the broken-up masses of ice were far less frequent.