his axe into the ice.

For there was very little snow to traverse here: by the slip it had been
almost entirely turned into ice, and the difficulties of the climb so
increased that from time to time Saxe had to stop utterly exhausted.

"Why are we going up here?" he said on one of these occasions.

"To get as near as I can guess to where we were when the snow-slide
began, herr. Shall I go on alone?"

"No--no! don't leave me!" cried Saxe excitedly.

"The herr might depend upon my return," said Melchior.

"Yes: I was not thinking of that, but of my being able to help. How
much farther is it?"

"About five minutes, herr--not more. You can see for yourself that we
must be quite close to the position now. Rested?"

Saxe nodded, and wishing fervently for the guide's strength, he toiled
on again behind him, till at last they stood upon the bare rock swept
clear of the snow, and any doubt of its being where the mishap befel
them was quite removed by their coming suddenly upon quite a wall of
snow standing many feet above their heads, and running far enough to
right and left in a jagged line, as if a flash of lightning had darted
across and made the division.

Saxe's lips parted to speak, but the guide held up his hand.

"Not a word, herr," he whispered. "We might have another fall."

Saxe looked up and shuddered, for the snow far above them seemed as if
it might come down at any moment; and after looking sharply from left to
right, he gladly followed Melchior as he went cautiously toward the
upper rocks for a couple of dozen yards.

"Here is where we must have been," he said; "and from this spot we ought
to start back if we are to find the herr."

Saxe nodded, for he could not trust himself to speak. It was all too
terrible; and the thought of Dale being imprisoned somewhere near, held
fast as he had been, seemed far worse than anything he had himself gone
through.

Melchior started back directly, as if from instinct; and, unable to do
more, Saxe followed him till he halted.

"It is blind work, herr," he whispered. "There is no clue to guide one.
He was suddenly swept away from us; and who can say whether we may not
be going from him all this time, instead of following him up?"

"Oh, Melchior!" cried Saxe piteously.

"Not so loud, herr--not so loud. It sounds cruel to say so--hard to
you; but I am obliged to be honest with you, and say that I see no hope
of our finding him alive."

A sob escaped fr