“Not to-day,” replied the guide. “No: up to the snow yonder, and along its edge for a little way, and then we descend on the other side, where it will be all downward to Andregg’s chalet. Hah! Down close! Quick!”
He set the example, flinging himself upon his face and extending his hands above his head, as a whizzing sound was heard; then a dull thud or two and directly after there was a crash on the rocky side of the couloir a few feet above their heads, followed by a shower of slaty fragments which fell upon them, while a great fragment, which had become detached far above, glanced off, struck the other side of the gully, and then went downward, ploughing up the snow.
“Take care!” again cried the guide. “No,” he said directly after, “it is only a few bits.”
The few consisted of what might easily have been a cartload of snow, which passed them with a rush, fortunately on the opposite side of the gully.
“I say, Mr Dale,” said Saxe, rather nervously, “if that piece of slate had hit either of us—”
“Hah!” ejaculated Dale, drawing in his breath with a hiss, “if it had hit us—”
They neither of them finished their sentence; and just then Melchior started once more, lessening the difficulty of the ascent by zigzagging the way.
Snow was dislodged, and went gliding down the gully, and for a moment a great patch began to slide, taking Dale with it, but a few rapid leaps carried him beyond it; and tightening the rope as soon as he had reached a firm place, Saxe was able to pick his way after the snow had gone by him with a rush, but only to stop a little lower down.
Another climb of about a quarter of an hour’s duration brought them to the edge of the field of snow, which Melchior examined pretty carefully, and ended by rejecting in favour of a rugged ridge of rocks, which they had hardly reached when there was a quick roar like thunder, and the guide cried sharply—
“Look!”