“But you will have to cut steps all the way!”
“Yes, herr.”
“And the precipice?”
“You will not mind that, herr; and I am sure he will not shrink from it now.”
Saxe declared that he was ready, and for the next hour they were crossing the ice, where a slip might have sent all flying down two or three thousand feet. But it was passed at last, and the great black crags were now within easy reach.
“Do you mean to go right to the top, herr?” said the guide; “because, if so, it would be better to do it now, before the snow grows softer, and descend to the black crags afterwards. Then, if we do not find crystals, I can take you round by the cornice, and over or round one of the snowfields home.”
“What do you say, Saxe? Shall we venture?”
“Yes, we must be able to say we have climbed the Blitzenhorn.”
“Go on, then, Melchior, and we’ll do it. Is there anything very bad?”
“No, herr, I think not. A few crevasses, perhaps, that one can get over, are the worst. Nothing more difficult than we have often done.”