"But how shall we get there? This wall of rock is as smooth as glass, one slip and there is nothing between us and the bottom of the lake."
"You must take care, that is all. You will have to lie down on your back and slip down sidewise. Now and then you will find a bush of Alpine roses that you can cling to; but there is no danger of slipping if you are barefoot,—follow my example."
A blood-curdling pleasure awaited them. The men took off their shoes and clung firmly with hands and feet to the smooth wall of stone. They had gone barely half way when there was a mysterious sound from the opposite mountains; it seemed as if the rocks beneath them trembled.
"Stay where you are," shouted Sanga-moarta to the others. "There is a snow-slide."
And the next moment could be seen the white ball set in motion in the remote mountains, rolling down the steep heights, tearing along with it rocks and uprooted trees, growing every instant more terrible; and as it made great bounds to the valley it shook the mountain to its very foundations.
"Oh my God!" cried Clement, trying to reach the guide with one hand while he clung to the rock with the other. "It will come and kill us all."
"Stay where you are," Sanga-moarta called out to them, when he saw that they were trying to climb up and would so expose themselves to the danger of slipping back. "This slide is going toward that rock and there it will be either broken or held fast."
It was true that the snow-slide, now grown to mammoth size, was rolling toward a jutting cliff that seemed dwarf-like in comparison. The roll of the avalanche had grown so loud that every other sound was lost in its thundering roar. Now the snow plunged against the rock in its path, struck its peak with a fearful bound and gave the whole mountain such a shock that it quivered to its foundations. For a moment the entire vicinity was covered with a cloud of snow flying with the velocity of steam. After the last clap, the thunder ceased. Then followed a frightful cracking. The avalanche had torn the opposing rock from its base and the two plunged down into the lake below them. This, lashed to foam, engulfed the mass and its waves, mounting fearfully, rose to the height of fifty fathoms, where the bold climbers were clinging to the face of the rock. Then the waves settled back, for a few moments took the form of a towering green column which finally subsided, and after some time quiet again ruled over the waters.
Clement lay there more dead than alive, while Sanga-moarta's first look was to see if the bed of the stream had been overflowed by the war of the waters. But the mass of snow had plunged into the lake without raising it a foot; all had disappeared in the bottomless depths; a mountain lake neither rises nor falls.
"Let us go on our way," said Sanga-moarta. "It will be all the easier now that the rock is wet, to climb down."