Here, as soon as they had finished their meal, Dale lightly chipped a cross in a piece of smooth ice, just off the entrance; while Saxe climbed up the steep valley side a little way, threw himself down upon a flat ledge of rock, and began to look cautiously round, scanning the opposite side of the valley, and then up and down and up again.
“Hist!” he whispered suddenly; “don’t look up. Some one watching us.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Across the valley, high up to the right of some tall, rugged seracs.”
Dale slowly sank down on the ice behind a great block of granite, which must have fallen from the mountain side and been borne down upon the glacier. The next minute he was peering carefully round from one side.
“Yes, I can see him, lad,” he said; “but I don’t believe that fellow would touch a crystal if there were thousands.”
“You always think these people are so honest!” cried Saxe. “Well, what could he do with it? I never knew one of them yet who cared for crystals. Ah! there he goes, right up over the snow. Look! look! Saxe. Isn’t it wonderful how an animal can dash at such a speed over those dangerous places!”
“Why, it must be a chamois!” cried Saxe, in disgust at his mistake.
“Yes; and I dare say there is a little herd of them somewhere up yonder in the mountain. Now are you ready to own that you are a little accustomed to give rein to your imagination?”
“I suppose so,” said Saxe, rather dolefully. “It seems so easy to make mistakes.”