“I wish to goodness they would not do that,” said the Englishman to himself: “it seems so unmanly.” But he smiled the next moment, as he recalled that he had set the example by hugging Saxe; and then he drew back, for fear that the old peasant Andregg and his man Pierre should follow suit.
“Why, Saxe, my lad, I thought you and Melchior were buried beneath the snow.”
“That’s what we thought about you, herr,” cried Melchior. “We have been searching for you.”
“I searched for you both for over an hour,” said Dale, “and then in despair I went off for help.”
“But how was it we did not see you?” cried Saxe, who now, in his great joy, began to recover voice and strength.
“The snowfield is great,” said Melchior gravely. “Several people might be on it at once, hidden from each other by the rough piles of ice and snow; and the young herr forgets that he was buried long beneath, and that it was, I dare say, nearly an hour before I struggled out and found him. How did you, sir, get on?”
“Ah! that I can hardly tell you,” said Dale. “It was all one roar and rush and confusion; but I was kept at the top all the way, and never quite covered by the snow.”
“All the way, herr?”
“Yes. I cannot tell how far it was; but I seemed to glissade right down into the valley, where I was fixed for a few minutes right up to my armpits. Then I got free, and began to struggle back up the snow in search of you, till, quite in despair at not finding you, I went for help.”
“It was no wonder that the herr did not find us,” said Melchior. “He was borne to the bottom, and we were shut in not so very far from the top. But, there, our lives are all preserved; and we thank you, neighbours, for coming to our help.”