“Plenty of crevasses, herr,” said Melchior; “but they are all to be seen. There is no snow to bridge them over.”
He stood looking down one of the blue cracks zigzagged across the glacier, and Saxe could not help a shudder as he gazed down into its blue depths and listened to the roar of water which came up from below.
But it was not more than a yard in width, and in turn they leaped across and continued their way.
Then they had to pass another, half the width, and others that were mere fissures, which Dale said were slowly splitting; but soon after stepping across the last of these, further progress over the ice was barred by a great chasm four or five yards from edge to edge, along which they had to skirt till its end could be turned and their journey continued.
“Can we take to the rocks again?” said Dale, looking anxiously toward the almost perpendicular sides of the valley up which they slowly made their way.
“Not yet, herr: I have been watching, and we are still only passing mere crevices in the rock. Hah! now we are coming to the enow, and shall have to take care.”
He pointed with his ice-axe to where, a hundred yards or so farther on, the surface of the ice suddenly changed; but they did not pass at once on to the snow, for as they neared it they found that they were parted from it by another crevasse of about four feet wide.
“We need not go round this, I suppose,” said Dale, as he stood peering down into its depths—Saxe following his example, and listening to a peculiar hissing rush of water far below.
“No, herr, the leap is so short. Shall I go first?”
“Oh no,” said Dale, stepping back and then jumping lightly across, to alight on the snow; “beautiful landing, Saxe. Take a bit of a run.”