Melchior looked at him half pityingly.
“Which!” he said at last. “Has the herr thought how impossible it would be to hunt good climbers down in these wilds! Look!” he continued, waving his hand round; “the great wilderness is everywhere, and there are thousands of places where men could hide.”
“Yes, I know all that,” cried Dale impatiently; “but I am not going to sit down quietly and be robbed like this of the specimens I have worked so hard to get. What do you say, Saxe!”
“Get ’em back at any cost. I think they are Italian brigands from the other side who have done it.”
“No, herr,” said Melchior. “It is the work of some of our people, who are greedy and jealous. There are some who would sooner work hard for a month to find an opportunity to steal a few francs than work honestly for a week to earn double. Fortunately they are very few.”
“Then you would give up and not search for them!” said Dale angrily.
“I would search for them, herr; but it would end in failure. This must be done by men who know these high mountains as well as I do. Why, if I wished to hide here, there are places I could get to where I should never be found.”
“But the hiding people want food!”
“Yes, herr,” said the guide drily; “and they have got it. A great deal of what I brought up with Gros has gone. I thought the young herr here had taken some of it; but I see now.”
“Then, what would you do?”