As far as the actual ascent of the Matterhorn goes, it is far from being the formidable affair which it was once considered to be; but at the same time it is certainly not an expedition to be recommended to every one. It is not that the ascent is dangerous in itself, though some may have their own opinion about that, but it cannot be too strongly insisted on that, under certain conditions, it ought not to be attempted. Every experienced climber knows how weather can affect a mountain, and how ascents which, under ordinary conditions, are easy enough, are apt after bad weather to become difficult—sometimes impossible; and for a party of novices, with possibly guides not of the best class, to attempt the Matterhorn in a bad state is to run a risk such as no one in the pursuit of pleasure is justified in running.
The latest accident upon the Matterhorn, up to date of writing, has perhaps more than any other Alpine accident illustrated the folly of attempting great mountains without a proper mountaineering training beforehand. On the morning of the 17th of August, at three A.M., a party, consisting of Messrs F. C. Borckhardt and T. Davies, with Zermatt guides, Peter Aufdemblatten and Fridolin Kronig, left the lower Matterhorn hut, and in fine weather reached the summit about nine A.M. Soon after leaving it, the weather, with one of those sudden changes which must always more or less constitute a danger in Alpine climbing, became very bad, and it began to snow. The progress of the party was very slow, for neither of the two gentlemen seems to have been a good walker, and both were exhausted; and by seven o’clock that same evening they had only reached the spot near where Dr Moseley made his fatal slip. Here they halted. It continued to snow all that night and till past noon on the following day, by which time travellers and guides were reduced to a pitiable condition. And now comes the saddest part of the story. Of the party, Mr Borckhardt was by this time the most helpless, and as such, ought to have received the greatest consideration; but the guides persuaded Mr Davies that the only chance of saving their own lives was to leave their helpless companion, and make a push to the nearest point whence help could be obtained. At that moment, it so happened that a rescue party was on its way from Zermatt, and they met it about half-way down to the hut. On hearing of the abandonment of Mr Borckhardt on the open mountain-side, the relief party pushed on to his aid with all haste; but it was of no avail; they only arrived to find that the unfortunate gentleman was past all human help.
BY ORDER OF THE LEAGUE.
CHAPTER X.
Besides the consolation of recovering the precious insignia, the spice of romance in the affair appealed to Le Gautier’s natural sentiment. He might, it may be thought, have had something similar made; but it must be remembered that he had no fac-simile in his possession; and he knew, or suspected, that the coin bore private marks known only to the Supreme Three. At all hazards, therefore, the device must be recovered, and perhaps a little pleasant pastime enjoyed in addition.
After long cogitation, Le Gautier decided to keep the appointment, and, in accordance with this determination, walked to Charing Cross the following night. He loitered along the broad stone platform for some time till the clock struck nine, idly speculating upon the people hurrying to and fro, and turning over the books and papers on the bookstall. At a few minutes after the hour he looked up at the clock, and then down again, and his heart beat a shade more quickly, for there, standing by the swinging door leading to the first-class waiting-room, was a long cloaked figure, closely veiled. Walking carelessly in the direction, and approaching, he looked at his watch as he muttered: ‘Past nine—no sign of the Eastern Eagle.’
By way of answer, the mysterious stranger raised her hand to the clasp of her cloak, and there, in the centre of the fastening, was a gold moidore.
Le Gautier’s eyes glistened as he noticed this. ‘You wish to see me?’ he said at length. ‘I must thank you for’——
‘If your name is Le Gautier,’ she interrupted, ‘I do want to say a few words to you.—Am I right, sir?’
Le Gautier bowed, thinking that, if the face matched the voice and figure, he had a treasure here.