“No,” said Dale; “it is what I told you—an echo from above. People don’t cut steps on glaciers, the slope is not enough. Ah! yes. It does certainly seem to come from the ice.”
Saxe looked at him wildly. His head was in a whirl, full of thoughts, which seemed to jostle each other, while Dale stood listening to the steady chip, chip, chip.
“I cannot quite make it out.”
“There’s some one cutting down there,” cried Saxe.
“No. The sound is carried a long way; but some one must be cutting steps in the ice not far from here.”
“Then it is not an echo?”
“No, I think not; but I am not sure.”
“Let’s see!” cried Saxe excitedly.
“It is like wasting time, my boy; but it may mean the help we want. Yes, we will see.”
Dale began to climb on the ice once more, but Saxe hung back.