“Not in my time, herr. The ice is creeping farther down the valley every year.”
“Well,” said Dale; “we’ll try and find out the rate of its progress by scoring the rock.”
This was done in several places as they advanced toward the low arch of ice from which the stream poured forth; and Saxe rather shrank from this task, as it seemed to promise a long wade in chilling water.
But as they came close up, it was to find ample room beneath the glacier to pick their way in over the rock, with the stream on their right, where it had worn itself a channel in the course of ages.
Dale became immediately deeply interested in the structure of the ice and the state of the rock beneath the arch, at whose entrance he paused, while the guide under his instruction chipped marks at the edge of the stream by which he could test the rate of progress of the glacier.
This was very interesting from a scientific point of view; but it soon grew tedious to Saxe, who began to penetrate a little farther into the lovely blue grotto, whose roof was a succession of the most delicate azure tints.
“Don’t go in too far alone,” said Dale, looking up.
“No: I shall not go too far,” replied Saxe; “and, besides, I am not alone.”
He nodded laughingly toward the goat, which had followed him in without hesitation, sniffing at the running water, and then throwing up its horned head to gaze onward into the blue haze from which came the gurglings and strange whisperings of the water.
“Well, I may as well go on a little bit,” thought Saxe; and cautiously advancing, so as not to step down some horrible rock split, he went forward rapt in wonder at the beauty of the scene, as at the end of a few yards the passage curved round so that the opening became invisible, and he was gazing at the glorious rays of light which shot right by him, all tinted with celestial blue.