“It is glorious,” he thought; and then he gave quite a start, for the goat beside him suddenly set up a loud bleat and began to advance farther beneath the glacier, its pattering hoofs on the stone sounding loudly above the water.
“Here, you: stop! Come back,” cried Saxe: “you’ll be tumbling down some hole. Do you hear?”
If the goat did hear, it paid no heed, but went on; and as the way seemed to be safe in the dim blue light, Saxe followed, till from twilight it began to grow purply-black before he had nearly overtaken the goat, which uttered a mournful baa, and stopped short, as a good-sized lump of ice flew by its head, and smashed upon the rock; and as the goat still advanced, another and another came flying.
Saxe retreated horrified and startled, to reach the spot where the others were, breathless and pale.
“Hullo! What’s the matter?”
“The ice is falling in. Come out.”
“Nonsense!” cried Dale.
“It is; or else lumps are flying out from inside; and the goat and I were nearly hit.”
Dale looked at the guide, who shook his head.
“Some ice might fall farther in,” he said; “but pieces could not come flying out.”