“Oh no. These people who make discoveries of curiosities in the mountains consider they have a perfect right to them, as sons of their fatherland; and, as foreigners, I’m afraid we should get a great deal of law and no profit if we raised the question. The best way is to keep our discoveries as secret as we can. Now, then! what do you say to drawing the curtains and going to sleep?”
“I’m ready,” said Saxe; “but my! what a lot of adventures we are having in so short a time!”
“All lessons for you in mountaineering, my lad. Good night.”
“Good night,” said Saxe drowsily, as he lay down inside the tent, and at an hour when he would have thought it absurd to think of going to sleep at home. But nature was quite ready, and as he watched Dale fastening down the door of the tent with a peg, he dropped right off to sleep, but only to start awake again, to sit up, and stare wonderingly.
“I said we have our crystal to take care of now, boy,” said Dale, laughing at the comical figure Saxe cut; “and we must not invite a visit from burglars by leaving the front door open. There, good night once more, and don’t have a nightmare, and get dreaming about being fixed on a mountain shelf, like an English ornament, for strangers to see!”
“That’s too bad,” said Saxe drowsily. “I did find the crystal cave.”
“So you did, Saxe, and it is too bad. Never mind, my lad. You’ve done well. Once more—good night.”
Was it the next minute after saying that?
Saxe was not sure, but it seemed to be directly, though it could not have been, for instead of being twilight it was now quite dark.
“What is he doing?” thought Saxe, as he heard the faint sound of moving about. The canvas door of the little tent was open, for he could feel the cool night air blowing in upon his face, with the crisp, bracing sensation of wind off the snow-capped mountains.