yes--perhaps much more," said Dale. "That fall was a couple of
miles away."

"Here, let's go on, sir," said Saxe, who seemed to have changed his mind
very suddenly. "It all puzzles me. I dare say I'm very stupid, but I
can't understand it. Perhaps I shall be better after a time."

"It is more than any one can understand, Saxe," said Dale quietly; "and
yet, while it is grand beyond imagination, all the scheme of these
mountains, with their ice and snow, is gloriously simple. Yes," he
added, with a nod to Melchior, "go on," and an arduous climb followed
along the ridge of rocks, while the sun was reflected with a painful
glare from the snowfield on their left, a gloriously soft curve of
perhaps great depth kept from gliding down into the gorge below by the
ridge of rocks along which they climbed.

The way was safe enough, save here and there, when Melchior led them
along a ledge from which the slope down was so steep as to be almost a
precipice. But here he always paused and drew in the rope till those in
his charge were close up to him; and on one of these occasions he patted
Saxe on the shoulder, for there had been a narrow piece of about fifty
feet in length that looked worse at a glance back than in the passing.

"That was good," he said. "Some grown men who call themselves climbers
would have hung back from coming."

"That?" said Saxe. "Yes, I suppose it is dangerous, but it didn't seem
so then. I didn't think about it, as you and Mr Dale walked so quietly
across."

"It's the thinking about it is the danger," said Dale quietly.
"Imagination makes men cowards. But I'm glad you've got such a steady
head, Saxe."

"But I haven't, sir, for I was horribly frightened when I hung at the
end of that rope down in the crevasse."

"You will not be again," said Melchior coolly, for they were now on a
slope where the walking was comparatively easy, and they could keep
together. "The first time I slipped into one I, too, was terribly
frightened. Now I never think of anything but the rope cutting into my
chest and hurting me, and of how soon I can get hold somewhere to ease
the strain."

"What!" cried Saxe, staring at the man's cool, matter-of-fact way of
treating such an accident, "do you mean to say I shall ever get to think
nothing of such a thing as that?"

"Oh yes," said Melchior quietly.

"Oh, well, I don't think so," said Saxe. "Oh no. I shall get not to
mind walking along precipices, I dare say, b