“Ah, Monsieur,” he said, shaking his head, “you are not fit to guide any one to-night. Besides, I know the place well. If poor Le Croix has fallen into that crevasse, he is now past all human aid.”
“But why not start at once?” said Lewis, anxiously, “if there is but the merest vestige of a chance—”
“There is no chance, Monsieur, if your description is correct; besides, no man could find the spot in a dark night. But rest assured that we will not fail to do our duty to our comrade. A party will start off within an hour, proceed as far as is possible during the night, and, at the first gleam of day, we will push up the mountains. We need no one to guide us, but you need rest. Go, in the morning you may be able to follow us.”
We need scarcely say that the search was unavailing. The body of the unfortunate hunter was never recovered. In all probability it still lies entombed in the ice of the great glacier.
Chapter Eighteen.
A Mystery cleared up.
“Is Nita unwell, Emma?” asked Lewis early one morning, not long after the sad event narrated in the last chapter.
“I think not. She is merely depressed, as we all are, by the melancholy death of poor Le Croix.”