They shouted as they had shouted a dozen times before, but there was no response, and Dale turned wearily in the direction from which they had come, the perpendicular rocks of the valley indicating the course they had to take, when suddenly the sound began again, apparently from close beneath their feet.
“It must be out here,” cried Saxe; and he went off to his right, and at the end of a minute reached a comparatively level space that they had not seen before.
“Take care!” cried Dale. “A crevasse over yonder.”
Chip, chip, chip. There was the sound again, and as Saxe laid his ear against the ice he heard it more distinctly.
“We’re getting nearer,” he cried. “It sounds underneath, but is farther away. I know! I’m sure! I’ve felt it ever so long now. There’s some one down below.”
Dale said nothing, but he thought the same, and stepping forward side by side with the boy, they strode on together, with the chipping growing plainer; and as their further progress was stopped by a wide crevasse all doubt was at an end.
The sounds came up from the vast rift, which seemed in the failing light to run in a peculiar waving zigzag right across the glacier for nearly half a mile.
Saxe uttered a curious hoarse sound, as he dropped upon his knees close to the edge of the crevasse.
“Take care, boy; the ice is slippery.”
Saxe made no reply, but peered shuddering down into the black darkness, and tried to shout; but his throat was dry, and not a sound would come.