the running water, and then throwing up its
horned head to gaze onward into the blue haze from which came the
gurglings and strange whisperings of the water.

"Well, I may as well go on a little bit," thought Saxe; and cautiously
advancing, so as not to step down some horrible rock split, he went
forward rapt in wonder at the beauty of the scene, as at the end of a
few yards the passage curved round so that the opening became invisible,
and he was gazing at the glorious rays of light which shot right by him,
all tinted with celestial blue.

"It is glorious," he thought; and then he gave quite a start, for the
goat beside him suddenly set up a loud bleat and began to advance
farther beneath the glacier, its pattering hoofs on the stone sounding
loudly above the water.

"Here, you: stop! Come back," cried Saxe: "you'll be tumbling down some
hole. Do you hear?"

If the goat did hear, it paid no heed, but went on; and as the way
seemed to be safe in the dim blue light, Saxe followed, till from
twilight it began to grow purply-black before he had nearly overtaken
the goat, which uttered a mournful baa, and stopped short, as a
good-sized lump of ice flew by its head, and smashed upon the rock; and
as the goat still advanced, another and another came flying.

Saxe retreated horrified and startled, to reach the spot where the
others were, breathless and pale.

"Hullo! What's the matter?"

"The ice is falling in. Come out."

"Nonsense!" cried Dale.

"It is; or else lumps are flying out from inside; and the goat and I
were nearly hit."

Dale looked at the guide, who shook his head.

"Some ice might fall farther in," he said; "but pieces could not come
flying out."

"Of course not," said Dale, returning to his observations. "Go in and
see."

It was on Saxe's lips to say, "Never again!" for his thoughts flew back
to his last night's experience; but just then the goat bleated, looked
inquiringly along the blue winding cavern, with its amethystine roof,
and began to advance.

"There you are, Saxe," cried Dale: "go after that goat and turn her
back, or she'll lose herself, and there'll be no milk for tea."

Saxe felt obliged to go now; and, calling himself a coward to be afraid
to enter that long cellar-like place, he walked boldly in after the
goat, turned the corner where the arch of light was left behind, with
the two fingers busy chipping and measuring, and went on.

The goat looked very indistinct now,