lace to piled-up masses of rock, which looked as if they had been
hurled down from above.

Then came a couple of hours' toilsome climb over broken stones, and up
masses that were mastered by sheer scrambling. Now and then an easy
rock slope presented itself, or a gully between two buttresses of the
mountain, as they won their way higher and higher. Only once was there
a really dangerous place--a mere ledge, such as they had passed along on
the previous day, but instead of a raging torrent beneath them there was
a wall of nearly perpendicular rock running down for about a thousand
feet to a great bed of snow.

But the distance was short, and Saxe stepped out bravely, perfectly
aware, though, that his companions were keeping the rope pretty tight
and watching his every step.

"Well done!" cried Melchior.

"Bravo, Saxe!" said Dale, as soon as they were safely across: "I see
your head is screwed on right. Forward!"

"But he don't know what a weak screw it is," thought Saxe. "Why, they
must have seen how white I was! I shall never dare to get back that
way."

Three or four awkward bits were circumvented; a couloir or gully full of
snow mounted; and then there was a long climb up a moderate slope toward
where a ridge of rocks stood out sharply, with snow sloping down on
either side, the ridge running up far into the mountain; but before they
could get to this a deep bed of old snow--"firn" Melchior called it--a
great sheet, like some large white field, had to be passed.

But this was mastered, and the climb began up towards the ridge.

"The herr remembers this?" Melchior said.

"No," said Saxe.

"Oh yes, you remember: that is the arete," said Dale.

"That? What! right up there?"

"Yes. Are you surprised?"

"Yes: I thought we had passed that, down below somewhere, hours ago."

"More faith in the size of the mountains," said Dale merrily. "Well,
Saxe, how do you feel now? Will you sit down and wait!"

"No," said the boy, through his set teeth, "I'm going right to the top."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

SAXE GOES TO THE TOP.

"Ten minutes' rest, herr," said the guide.

"And lunch?"

"No, herr--only for a pipe;" and Melchior drew out his big tobacco
holder and filled up, while Dale took out a cigar. "Here's a sheltered
place to get a light," continued the guide, leading the way to a niche
in the rocks and striking a match.

"Well," said Dale, "what do you think? Will he do it?"

"Shall I speak t