“There, Saxe, neither you nor I could have done that,” said Dale, as the guide settled himself in the loop swinging before the mouth of the grotto.
“It makes my hands feel wet,” whispered Saxe. “Look!”
For Melchior was already hard at work with hammer and chisel, cutting off great angles that obstructed the way in and sending the fragments showering down.
They watched him intently, seeing that he used the hammer as he used his ice-axe, so as not to deliver an unnecessary blow.
“Think you will make a way in?” cried Dale, as the guide paused for a few moments to wipe his brow.
“Oh yes, herr; I should have done by now, only my blows fall weakly sitting swinging here.”
“Is the spike safe? Take care.”
“I shall not fall, herr,” he replied. “If the spike gave way I should have time to save myself.”
He began hammering again, this time without the chisel, and using the hammer with so much effect that they could hear the pieces of rock he chipped off rattling down inside, till at the end of about half an hour he ceased striking, and began raking out the bits he had broken off.
“I can get through here now, herr,” he said. “I’ll come down, and you shall go first.”