e; "and it would be bad to
fall in. I could soon throw you the rope, but the waters are icily
cold, and might make you too helpless to swim. Still, it is better to
grow accustomed to walking places like this without the rope."

"Oh yes," said Saxe, coolly enough; "I don't feel frightened."

"I hope you would speak out frankly if you were nervous," said Dale: "it
might save an accident. False shame would be folly here."

"Oh, I'll speak," said Saxe, as his eyes wandered over the blue water
that lay like a mirror reflecting the mountains round. "What a place it
looks for fish! There are plenty here, eh, Melchior?"

"I have seen small ones leap out--that is all."

"But what's the matter with the mule? He can't get any farther."

"Oh yes; there is a good path to where the river runs out. He does not
like to go on by himself. I must get by him again, and lead."

It was easier said than done, for the path was so narrow that Melchior
had to press the mule close to the perpendicular rock, and hold on by
the pack-saddle and then by the animal's neck, to get by. Once he did
slip, his foot gliding over the edge; but by throwing himself forward he
saved himself, clung to the path for a few minutes as he hung over it,
his chest and arms resting thereon till he could get one knee up.

The rest was easy, and he rose once more to his feet.

"Hah!" ejaculated Saxe, "I thought you were gone, and we had no rope to
throw to you."

"It was rather awkward, herr," said the guide coolly. "It is bad, too,
to get wet when one is hot with walking."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

AN AWKWARD ACCIDENT.

"I sat!" cried Saxe, as the guide led on again, and the mule followed
patiently enough.

"Yes, herr."

"Suppose two goats were to meet here, what would they do!"

"One would lie down and the other jump over him."

"But suppose it were two mules?"

"I don't know, herr. One of them might make the other back all the way;
but mules are stubborn, and I'm afraid that one would push the other
off."

"And what then?"

"He would swim for awhile, and then drown."

"Why," said Saxe, "I thought this lake was very beautiful; but you seem
to be taking all the blue out of it. Ugh! why, it would be like falling
into a well and trying to get out. I shall be glad to get away from
this place."

"That's imagination, Saxe," said Dale; "and imagination is something all
mountaineers should leave behind."

"Why?" said Saxe argumentatively.