“Well, that’s the part of it that I don’t like,” said Saxe. “It seems so precious hard. But you will not give up yet!”
“No: I propose staying another month, or till the weather breaks up. If we begin to have rain and snow, we shall soon want to get down to the lower grounds.”
“That is what always puzzles me,” said Saxe; “for with the mountains rising up all round us, we seemed to be on the low grounds here—down in this valley.”
“You forget that we are between five and six thousand feet above sea-level here.”
“Between five and six thousand!” said Saxe thoughtfully. “Six thousand; and the cross of Saint Paul’s is only four hundred and four. Why, this valley here is nearly fifteen times as high, and it does not seem high a bit!”
“But it is my lad, all the same.”
There was a few minutes’ silence, and then Saxe began again:
“You win not give up the crystal hunting?” he said.
“Yes, I think I shall—at all events, for this year. You see it is such a matter of accident. You found that partly—well, by accident.”
“No,” said Saxe sharply, “not by accident: I was looking for it.”