The goats, wild with delight at seeing fresh pasturage, leaped forward and began to browse, and dear old Bello sat down on his haunches with his tongue hanging out and gazed upon the scene as benevolently as if his own stomach were full instead of empty. The children were so weary they threw themselves down in the grass beside him to rest.
Now that they had escaped the perils of the forest, it almost seemed to them for a little while as if their troubles were over, but by and by Seppi sat up and studied the scene before them. He looked past the long slopes to the glacier and the river in the valley below.
"We've got to get across that somehow," he said to Leneli, at last, pointing to the stream, "and there are only two ways of doing it. When we get down there, we must either go through the river, or across the glacier which feeds it."
"We can't go through it," answered Leneli. "We don't know how deep it is."
"Then it will have to be the glacier," said Seppi, "and I'm glad goats are so sure-footed. We'd better start along, for it's getting later every minute, and I'm bound to reach that farm-house before dark." He pointed to a speck in the distance.
"Oh, dear," sighed Leneli, as she followed his finger with her eye, "it's like dying to get to heaven! Suppose we fall into cracks in the glacier?"
"You're the worst supposer I ever saw," snapped Seppi. "Suppose we don't fall in! Suppose we get across all right with all the goats, and suppose there's a good woman at the farm-house who feeds us, and Bello too! Suppose she gives us… what would you like best for supper, Leneli?"
"Oh!" cried Leneli, clasping her hands, "soup and pancakes!"
"Hurry up, then," said Seppi. "We shall surely never get them, nor anything else, by staying here."
Leneli struggled to her feet, and once more they moved forward. Half an hour of brisk walking brought them to the edge of the glacier, and here Seppi arranged their marching order.