he truth, herr?" said the guide, puffing quietly away.

"Of course."

"He's horribly frightened, herr; but he would sooner die than show it."

"Exactly: you are right. Will he hold out?"

"That he will, if he is a long time doing it."

"Will you stand by me, Melchior?"

"Of course, herr. I am your servant, and I am more: we are all brothers
in the mountains, ready to stand by each other to the end."

"Then, if he has the pluck that every English boy should have--the pluck
that English boys always have had--he shall go right to the top, even if
we have to sleep somewhere half-way down."

"If we can get him to the top, herr," said Melchior, laughing in his
quiet, grave way, "never mind about the coming down. Bless him! I'll
carry him down what you English call pig-a-back, if he's worn out."

"Then we'll take him. Is it a very stiff climb higher--dangerous?"

The guide shrugged his shoulders.

"The herr is a mountaineer, and sees as much as I do. I have never been
up here, but the mountains are much alike on the whole. I think we can
do it."

"Yes, alone: but with that lad?"

"Well, herr, if we come to a very dangerous bit I should say give it up
for his sake. But we shall see."

They stood smoking and looking about at the different parts above them,
marking out the way they would go when they had mastered the arete, and
then returned to Saxe, who was lying down in the sunshine resting.

"Well. Saxe: ten minutes nearly up. Will you stop or go on?"

Saxe looked rather pale, but he laughed.

"Wait here, getting cold?"

"No! there will be plenty of sunshine."

"Yes, but--wait here hours while you two go up to the top and sit down,
see the view and eat all the lunch. No; I'm coming with you."

"Right: you shall. Ready, Melchior!"

"Yes, herr. I think we'll have the rope again: I can give you both a
bit of a haul sometimes."

"He means me only," thought Saxe, "and I won't let him."

"Now, gentlemen!" the guide went on, as he stood shading his eyes, "that
snow's pretty firm, I think, and will not slip. We ought to master the
arete in an hour."

"An hour to do that little bit!" thought Saxe, as he looked up; but he
did not utter his thoughts; he was really beginning to understand that
dots meant big rocks, and snow patches that seemed the size of the hand
great beds.

"Vorwarts!" cried Melchior; and he began to climb with the activity of a
monkey, getting up to the extent of the rope,