“Ever so much farther when I was a boy,” said the guide. “It has been shrinking for years. Mind, herr; it is very slippery here. Let me help you.”
He hooked his ice-axe into a crevice, and held out his hand, by whose help Saxe mounted beside him, and here descending close to the water they stepped from stone to stone, with the ice towering more and more above their heads, till they were close up, and even below it, for they had entered a low, flat arch, which just admitted them standing upright, and after a few steps into what Saxe called a blue gloom, they stood gazing into the azure depths of the cavern, which grew darker till they were purple and then utterly black. Then they listened to the gurgle and babble of the tiny river, as it came rushing and dashing over the rock in many an eddy and swirl, while from far away up in the darkness there were mysterious whisperings and musical echoes that were strange to hear.
“Like to go in any farther, Saxe?” said Dale.
“Yes, much—very much,” said the lad, in a low voice, “just because I don’t want to.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I can’t exactly explain it, because the place makes me feel nervous and a little shrinking, but I want to try and get over it.”
“Better not stay any longer, herr,” said the guide; “you are hot with walking, and the place is damp and cold.”
“Yes, it would be wiser to go out in the sunshine again. I should like to explore this, though, with a lantern and candles.”
“Whenever the herr likes,” said the guide quietly. And they passed out again, the icy arch above them looking exquisitely beautiful with its blue tints, some of which were of the delicious brilliancy to be seen in some of our precious stones.
It was a wonderful change from the cool gloom of the cavern to the glaring sunshine outside, where the heat was reflected from the ice and glistening rocks; and now, striking up to the right, Melchior made for where the ice ended and the steep slope-up of the valley side began.