The Crystal Hunters: A Boy's Adventures in the Higher Alps - George Manville Fenn

“Well, man, yours is a golden heart! Take it, and some day you may tell your son that it came from an English boy and man who looked upon you as friends. The watch was mine; the chain is from Saxe here: they are yours.”

The tears stood in Melchior’s eyes as the watch was handed to Saxe, who thrust it into the guide’s pocket. Then he grasped their hands.

“Good-bye,” he said, in perfect English—“Leben Sie wohl. Ah!” he cried excitedly: “I know French but badly; but there is a farewell they have, herrs, which fits so well. The mountains are here, and everlasting. It is nearly winter now, but the summer will come again, when the snows are melting, and the valleys will be green and beautiful once more; and when those bright days are here I shall see that the peaks are waiting to be climbed and that there are perils to be bravely met by those who love our land; and then I shall pray. Herr Dale, that you will come again, and that you, Herr Saxe, will come, and, taking me by the hand, say, as you have so often said, ‘where to to-day?’ Make me happy, gentlemen—me, the man you called more than guide, your friend—tell me you will come again.”

“We will, please God—we will!” cried Saxe.

“The words I would have said,” said Dale.

“Then, now for those words of French, dear herr: Au revoir!”

The End.