“This way to the bath-room, Saxe,” said Dale; and he led the way to the foot of the nearest fall, whose icy water came showering down softly as if it were from a cloud. Here there was a pool of the greatest limpidity, broad, deep, and ground out of the solid rock by the constant dropping that wears a stone.
There were no remains of sleep about Saxe’s eyes after his ablutions, and they walked back towards the chalet, meeting Melchior.
“There is some breakfast ready, herr,” he said; “and I should like to know whether it would be wise to get your things up here and stay for a few days.”
“An excellent proposal; but how are we to get them?”
“Oh, there are men who would fetch them; or Andregg would send Pierre with his mule.”
“Who is Pierre?—that man we saw milking?”
“Yes, herr. I don’t like him, but he is honest, and will do that very well. Shall I send? After you have done here, I can get them carried farther over the mountains, or, if you liked, we could hire Andregg’s mule for use at once.”
“But the mountains? Can he climb?”
Melchior laughed.
“Almost anywhere. I think he could even beat us. He is a wonderful beast.”