They followed him carefully, without realising when they were passing over the opening, the difference in the appearance of the snow being only plain to the guide; and then onward again till the place was opposite to them where they were to leave the ice river and climb to the rocks.
“One moment,” said Dale: “let’s take one look round before we leave this part. Look, Saxe! the view is magnificent.”
“Yes; and you can see better from here,” cried the boy enthusiastically, as he stepped forward a few yards.
“Ah! not that way!” cried Melchior.
The warning came too late, for Saxe dropped through suddenly, tightening the rope with a jerk which threw Dale forward upon his face, and drew him a little way on toward the crevasse, whose slight covering of snow had given way.
But Melchior threw himself back, and stopped farther progress, as Saxe’s voice came up from below in a smothered way—
“Ahoy! Help! help!”
“Get to your feet,” cried Melchior to Dale; “I’ll keep the rope tight.”
“Yes,” cried Dale, scrambling up; “now, quick!—both together, to draw him out.”
“Draw him out? No,” said the guide quietly. “Now plant your feet firmly, and hold him till I come to your side.”