a sapient wink.

"Well, now," he cried, "wouldn't we be the queerest pair of zanies to
go all that long way to London to get married when a parson, and a
church, and all the needful consular offices are right here under our
noses, so to speak. Why, we have a ready-made honeymoon staring us in
the face. We'll just skate round Switzerland after your baggage and
then drop down the map into Italy. I figured it all out last night,
together with 'steen methods of making the preliminary declaration.
I'll tell you the whole scheme while we--Oh, well, if you're in a real
hurry to cross the glacier, I must defer details and talk in
headlines."

For Helen, absolutely scarlet now, had risen with a tragic air and
bade the guides prepare for instant departure.

The snow lay deep on the Roseg, and roping was essential, though
Pietro undertook to avoid any difficult crevasses. He led, Spencer
followed, with Helen next, and Bartelommeo last. They reached the
opposite moraine in half an hour, and began to climb steadily. The
rock which looked so forbidding from the hut was by no means steep and
not at all dangerous. They had plenty of time, and often stopped to
admire the magnificent vistas of the Val Roseg and the Bernina range
that were gradually unfolding before their eyes. Soon they were on a
level with the hut, the Alpine palace that had permitted their first
embrace.

"When we make our next trip to St. Moritz, Helen, we must seek out
the finest and biggest photograph of the Mortel that money can buy,"
said Spencer.

Helen was standing a little above him on a broad ledge. Her hand was
resting on his shoulder.

"Oh, look!" she cried suddenly, pointing with her alpenstock to the
massive mountain wall that rose above the _cabane_. A few stones had
fallen above a widespread snow slope. The stones started an avalanche,
and the roar of the tremendous cascade of snow and rock was distinctly
audible.

Pietro uttered an exclamation, and hastily unslung a telescope. He
said something in a low tone to Bartelommeo; but Spencer and Helen
grasped its meaning.

The girl's eyes dilated with terror. "There has been an accident!" she
whispered. Bartelommeo took the telescope in his turn and evidently
agreed with the leading guide.

"A party has fallen on Corvatsch," said Pietro gravely. "Two men are
clinging to a ledge. It is not a bad place; but they cannot move. They
must be injured, and there may be others--below."

"Let us go to th