“May be; but it is doubtful here. There, it does not matter, for in the other cave—that to which you climbed—there are splendid specimens.”
“Is the herr quite sure?”
“Yes, for we brought one away, and Saxe hid it somewhere, and has forgotten the place.”
“Mr Dale!” cried Saxe indignantly.
“Well, then, I did,” said Dale, laughing. “There, both of you, I am quite content. I should not have murmured about these, but we have at our command some that are incomparably better; and to-morrow we will come properly prepared with lights, chisels and hammer, and see what we can do.”
“I am very glad, herr; and I have one peak I can take you up—the Blitzenhorn—where I am nearly sure we can find the finest yet.”
“Good: we will try it. Now let’s get back and dine.”
“Yes, that will be wise,” said the guide, as Saxe pricked up his ears at the suggestion. “I journeyed nearly all last night, herr, so as to get back soon; and I hurried on as soon as I found your letter with the pine skewer through it.”
“Under the stone, Melchior.”
“No, herr: stuck down into the crack between two pieces of rock.”