“He’ll soon be warm there,” muttered Melchior: “no fear of freezing now.”
The wood was rapidly piled on the fire, for there was abundance beneath the pines; and at last, after bending down and satisfying himself as to Saxe’s condition, Melchior prepared to creep in and lie down by his side, but, on second thoughts, seated himself by the fire to enjoy its warm glow. But he was too uneasy to stay there long; and, creeping back to Saxe, he laid his hand upon the boy’s breast.
“Asleep, herr?” he said gently.
“Asleep?” said the boy confusedly: “I—I suppose I have been; but I’m giddy, and my head— Melchior—Melchior! why are we here? Have you found Mr Dale?”
The guide was silent for a few moments. Then, in a low, hoarse voice, he said sadly—
“No, herr; and it seems impossible to search farther.”
“Oh, Melchior!”
“It is true, herr. Your life was in danger, and it was all I could do to bring you down in safety.”
“Bring me down?” faltered Saxe. “I do not understand.”
“No, herr; we do not understand when we are insensible. You do not remember my carrying you down the mountain on my back?”