Chapter Twenty Eight.

Chapter Twenty Eight.In the Snow.In the tramp which followed, with the hill-men creeping on after them in the same slow, untiring way, Gedge had his eyes about him, and drew forth a sharp order from his officer when he began to deviate a little from the straight course towards a dwarf clump of pines, the highest of which was not above six feet.“What are you going there for?”“Want ’em, sir, for rifles,” was the reply. Bracy nodded; and upon reaching the clump, a few sharp strokes from the lad’s bayonet cut down and trimmed what formed a couple of longish walking-sticks, one of which he handed over to his officer, who used his in the latter capacity, Gedge soon following suit.“That’s what I want them to think, sir,” said Gedge, digging his down at every second pace. “Now, sir, what do you say? Don’t you think we might edge in more towards the snow?”“Soon,” said Bracy, pointing. “There’s just the spot we want;” and, raising his glass, he stopped to examine a group of blocks of stone some fifty yards from the edge of the snowfield, which here sent down a few sharp points, giving it the appearance at a distance of a huge, vandyked piece of white lace.“Couldn’t find a better place if we tried, sir,” said Gedge; “but we ain’t left ourselves time enough. If we had thought of it sooner, I could have cut out and made the busbies.”“We shall have plenty of time for that to-morrow,” said Bracy. “We must manage by tying on handkerchiefs for to-night, and pulling up the great collars as if they were hoods.”A short time after, each with his handkerchief over his head, the pair crouched behind two stones, upon which their helmets had been placed; and beside them the two sticks were planted, so that at a short distance any one would have been deceived and made to believe that a couple of men were on the watch for danger.Two men were on the watch for danger, but in a different way, both lying prone, Bracy, with his glass to his eyes, carefully sweeping the distance, and keeping it fixed upon the enemy, who looked strangely quiet, as they grouped together and seemed to be feasting.“Looks as if they meant to settle there, then, for the night, sir,” said Gedge, as Bracy reported to him everything he noted.“Yes; it looks so.”“But we don’t trust ’em, bless yer, sir. That’s their artfulness; foxing—that’s what they’re doing. Won’t be able to see ’em much longer—will you, sir?”“No; it’s getting dark very fast; but I can make them out, I dare say, till they begin to move.”“Hope you will, sir,” said Gedge softly, and lying with his knees bent, kicking his feet about in the air, after the fashion of a boy in a field on a sunny day, and looking quite unconscious of the fact that this night might be one of the most terrible they had ever been called upon to pass.Some minutes elapsed now in perfect silence, during which a fiery look on the topmost peak of one of the mountains died out slowly into cherry red, and finally became invisible, a few stars twinkling out as the red light died.“Gedge,” said Bracy in a quick whisper, such as he might have uttered had the enemy been close upon them, and about to spring, instead of many hundred yards away.“Sir?”“They are on the move.”“Can’t see ’em, sir.”“No; and they cannot see us, but I can dimly make them out with the glass. They are separating from their centre, and coming on. Ha! gone. I can see no more.”He put away the glass in the darkness, which now seemed to roll down upon them like a cloud from the mountains, giving the snowfield a ghastly look which made Bracy hesitate.“I’m afraid it would be better to go off to the left among the stones.”“Don’t, sir, pray,” said Gedge earnestly.“But our dark bodies will show against the snow.”“Not they, sir. We’ll roll in it, and it’ll be darker in half-an-hour. They’ll be all that before they get here—won’t they?”“Quite. They are sure to come on very slowly, and allow time for part of them to get right into our rear.”“Yes, sir; that’s right.”“Now, then, are you ready?”“Yes, sir.”There was again silence, and, but for the ghostly glare of the snow, all was very dark.“We seem to be going into the most dangerous place,” whispered Bracy, with his breath coming thickly.“And that’s the very place they’ll never think we should hide in, sir, if they were likely to think we were going to hide. No, sir: their keen eyes ’ll just make out them two ’elmets, and they’ll think o’ nothing else but driving their long knives into them as wears ’em, from behind. I do hope we shall hear ’em blunting the points against, the stones.”“Have you everything?”“Yes, sir.”“Then, forward! Go fifty paces slowly over the snow. I shall follow close behind you in your steps.”The snow yielded, so that they were knee-deep, but it was still loose and so sand-like in its grains that as each foot was withdrawn the icy particles flowed together again into each freshly-made hole.Five minutes later the adventurous pair lay softly down, and rolled over and over a few times, before lying prone upon their chests, each with his head towards the invisible helmets, and near enough to whisper or touch one another with the hand. Their rifles lay by their sides, with the cartouche-boxes handy: and, in case of a close attack, their revolvers were in the right sides of their belts, half dragged round to the back, while each held his dagger-like bayonet in his band.“Do you feel the cold, Gedge?” whispered Bracy.“Cold, sir? Why, I’m as hot as hot. This work’s too warm for a fellow to feel the cold. Do you, sir?”“No; my face burns as if with fever, and every nerve tingles with excitement. There, we must not even whisper again.”“Right, sir.”“The first moment you hear a sound of any one approaching, touch my left arm.”“Right, sir; but hadn’t I better lie t’other side of you? They’ll come that way.”“They’ll come from all round at once, my lad. There, don’t be afraid. If we are going to have trouble, I dare say you will get your full share. Now, silence; and when they come you must hardly breathe.”Then silence ensued, and seemed to Bracy the most oppressive that he had ever encountered in facing danger. For the solemnity of the night in the great mountains was brooding over them, out of which at any moment death, in the shape of a keen knife, might descend. There was not a breath of air, but an icy chill dropped down from above, making the snow crystals turn sharp and crisp, crackling softly at the slightest movement. But the frosty air had no effect upon them, save to make their blood tingle in their veins and a peculiar, pricking sensation play about their nostrils as they drew their breath, tiny needles of ice twining as they respired, and making a hoar-frost upon Bracy’s moustache.The time went on as if the movement of the earth had been checked by the frost; but, listen as they would, the silence was profound, and a full hour seemed to have passed, though it was not a fourth part of that time.“They will not come,” thought Bracy, as his eyes were turned in every direction he could force them to sweep, and the change appeared very striking from the black atmosphere in front, and right and left to the faint light suggestive of electricity or phosphorescence which made the snow dimly visible.But the enemy made no sign: and, with that horrible stillness as of death reigning and seeming to crush them into the snow, they lay waiting and longing for some sound—for the coming of the enemy; for the wild excitement of an encounter would, Bracy felt, be far preferable to that maddening suspense.As he lay there and thought, his ever-active brain was full of suggestions regarding what would take place. The enemy would not dare to come, and a night’s sleep would have been lost—they would come, see them with their penetrating eyes, pounce upon them, there would be a few savage unexpected strokes, and all would be over; while poor Colonel Graves would watch and wait, looking ever for the succour that did not come.“But he will not lose faith in his messengers,” Bracy thought, with a thrill of satisfaction running through him. “He will know that I strove to do my best.”Then his thoughts took another direction. Why should not—after the careful preparations made—therusebe successful, the enemy be deceived, and go in pursuit according to their ideas, leaving the two adventurers free to make their fresh departure? But that, the most natural outcome of the plan, Bracy, in his excitement, set aside as being the least likely to occur, and he lay in agony, straining every nerve to condense his faculties into the one great sense of hearing, till it seemed to him that his companion’s breathing sounded preternaturally loud.“Why, he’s asleep! The miserable, careless scoundrel!” thought Bracy. “Those men have no thought beyond the present. How can one trust them? How easily we might be surprised if he were the watch!”A flush of shame made the thinker’s cheeks burn the next moment, he had, in his annoyance, stretched out his left hand to reach dodge’s shoulder and give him a violent shake. But half-way he checked the progress of his hand; for, sotting aside the danger of waking a sleeper and making him start and utter some ejaculation, which might betray them to a lurking enemy, he recalled the fact that a touch was to be the signal to announce the coming of the enemy.The next moment, as his hand lay upon the snow where he had let it fall, another hand was laid upon it, and his fingers were gripped by a set of fingers which held it fast and gave it a firm, steady pressure, to which he warmly responded, his heart beating fast, and a genial glow of satisfaction running through him in his penitence for misjudging his faithful companion.Then the hand that grasped his was snatched away, and he lay listening and gazing in every direction that he could command for the danger just signalled to him by Gedge. Nothing to right or left, and he dared not stir to look back over the snow. Nothing in front, not a sign of any one near; and in his excitement he began to wonder whether his companion had made a mistake in his over-eagerness, for the silence was more oppressive than ever.“What was that?”A spasm shot through the listener, making every nerve and muscle tense as steel; his breath came thick and fast, and the dull, heavy throb, throb of his heart sounded loudly in his brain—so loudly that he held his breath and would have checked the pulsations if he could.There was no doubt now: the enemy was close at hand, and Bracy’s fingers closed over the hilt of his bayonet with a tremendous grip, for he felt that his revolver would be useless in that terrible darkness, and he shrank from wasting a shot.He could see nothing, but there was the danger just in front in the snow of those thirty yards which lay between them and the rocks. That danger was represented to the listeners in imagination by the figure—two figures—of the white-coated enemy, crawling slowly as huge worms might, have progressed over the snow. At times they were perfectly still, but ever and again there was the extremely gentle, crackling sound of the icy grains rubbing together with a soft, rustling sound, no more than a snake would have made passing along a dusty track.Bracy strained his eyes, but he could see nothing. He could not tell whether the two enemies were a yard or ten or twenty away from where he lay; but his straining ears told him that they were there, passing him from right to left, and he felt convinced that others must be moving slowly from all directions towards that one point, where the helmets were placed upon the pieces of stone.So far, then, all was right; but he felt that at any moment he might hear others coming along behind, and those might strike the very spot where they two were lying.Thought after thought of this kind flashed through Bracy’s brain, as he tightened his hold of the bayonet, and held it point upward ready for use against his first assailant, while the strange crepitation of the frozen snow went on for what seemed like a long period, so greatly was everything magnified by the excitement through which it was mentally viewed.By degrees, though, the creeping sound, which had seemed to stop more than once, ceased entirely, and the listeners waited quite half-an-hour, fancying twice over that they heard the faint click of stone against stone; but they could not be sure, and they dared not communicate otherwise than by a pressure of the hand, for there was still the possibility of the enemy being close in front. Though as the minutes crawled slowly by, and no fresh sound was heard, the feeling grew stronger and stronger that they had attributed the creeping noise to the enemy, when it was probably some inoffensive wild creature seeking for food, while the enemy had passed the spot in the dark, and were by now far away.Bracy had just come to this conclusion, and had begun to think of the wisdom of crawling off the snow, which was beginning to melt beneath him from the warmth of his body, when his heart gave a leap as if some nerve had received a sudden twitch. For there came low and clear from a short distance away a peculiar sound such as might be produced by a night-bird on the wing. Then all was still once more.“Was that a signal?” thought Bracy; “or have we been deceived?”He thought earnestly, and felt that, after all, the enemy would under the circumstances act just as they were acting. There seemed to be an excess of caution, but none too much, approaching as they would be to surprise whoever was on the watch, and going with their lives literally in their hands.“Phit!”The same low, peculiar sound again, making Bracy start into a wild fit of excitement. Then there was a quick running as of many feet towards the central spot, followed by clink, clink, clink—the striking of steel on stone, and then a momentary silence, followed by a peculiar rumbling and a burst of voices.“Gug!”Bracy turned sharply, bayonet in hand, ready to strike, for the horrible thought struck him that Gedge had just received a tierce thrust which pinned him to the frozen snow; but as he leaned in his direction a hand touched his wrist and gave it a grip, holding it tightly, and making him draw a deep breath full of relief.Meanwhile the voices increased, their owners talking fiercely, and though the tongue was almost unintelligible, a word was caught here and there, and they grasped the fact that every man seemed to want to talk at once, and to be making suggestions.But the speakers did not keep to one place. As far as Bracy could make out, they had broken up into parties, which hurried here and there, one coming so near to where the listeners lay that they felt that their time for action had come at last, and, palpitating with excitement, they prepared to meet the first attack.And now Bracy heard a sound as of some one breathing hard, and turned his head sharply to whisper a word of warning to his companion; but it was not uttered, for the sound came from beyond him, and with its repetition came the sound of laborious steps being taken through the snow, he who made them panting hard with the exertion as he came on to within a couple of yards of Gedge, and then suddenly turned off and made for the rocks.He made so much noise now that he knew there was no need for concealment, that Gedge took advantage of the man getting more distant to reach over to his officer and whisper, with his lips close to Bracy’s ear:“That chap ’ll never know how near he was to leaving off snoring like that, sir, for good.”“Hush!” whispered Bracy, and a fresh burst of talking arose as if to greet the man who had returned to the rocks from making a circuit round the trap.And now it seemed as if the whole party were spreading out and coming towards where the couple lay, for the voices sounded louder and came nearer, making Bracy gently raise himself ready to hurry his follower away: but the sounds came no closer, the speakers pausing at the edge of the snow, where it sounded as if their plans were; being discussed.Then all at once the talking ceased, and the beat of many feet, with the rattling of loose stones, fell on the listener’s ears, telling that the enemy was in motion; and the sounds they made grew fainter and fainter, and then died out entirely.“They seem to be gone,” whispered Bracy, with his lips close to Gedge’s ear.“Oh yes, they’re gone, sir, at last,” was the reply.“We must not be too sure. A few may be left behind to keep watch.”“Not them, sir. I can’t see as it’s likely.”Bracy was silent for a few moments, during which he listened intently for the faintest sound; but all was still.“Get up,” he said briefly, and then started at his own voice, it sounded so husky and strange.Gedge uttered a sigh of relief as he shook the adhering snow from his woolly coat.“Stiff, Gedge?” said Bracy.“Horrid, sir. A good fight wouldn’t come amiss. Hear me laugh, sir?”“When you made that sound?”“Yes, sir: that bit would come out, though I’d shut my mouth with my hand.”“What made you laugh at such a time?”“To hear them cuttin’ and stabbin’ at the rocks, sir, and blunting their knives.”“Oh, I see!”“Wonder whether they chopped our ’elmets, sir. Would you mind ordering me to see if there’s any bits left?”“The task is of no good,” said Bracy. “But we’ll walk back to the place and try if we can find them. Take out your revolver. No. Fix bayonets—we could use them better now.”There was a faint clicking, and then, with their rifles levelled, the pair marched laboriously off the snow, and then cautiously felt their way among the stones, Bracy’s main object being to find out for certain that there were no sentries left. The noise they could not help making among the stones proved this directly, and they unwittingly, in spite of the darkness, went straight to the spot where they had set up the sticks and helmets, when Gedge uttered a low cry full of excitement.“Why, they never come across ’em, sir. I’ve got ’em, standing here just as we left ’em. Well, I’m blessed! I know the difference by the feel. That’s yours, sir, and this is mine. Talk about luck! Ha! I feel better now. Woolly busbies is all very well, but they don’t look soldierly. I could have made some right enough, but we should ha’ wanted to take ’em off before we got back to the fort.”“A splendid bit of luck, Gedge,” said Bracy as he drew the strap of his helmet beneath his chin. “Now for our next step. What do you think?”“Wittles, sir. Can’t think o’ nothing else just now. I should say, with what we’ve got to do, the next thing’s to begin stoking before our fires go out.”

In the tramp which followed, with the hill-men creeping on after them in the same slow, untiring way, Gedge had his eyes about him, and drew forth a sharp order from his officer when he began to deviate a little from the straight course towards a dwarf clump of pines, the highest of which was not above six feet.

“What are you going there for?”

“Want ’em, sir, for rifles,” was the reply. Bracy nodded; and upon reaching the clump, a few sharp strokes from the lad’s bayonet cut down and trimmed what formed a couple of longish walking-sticks, one of which he handed over to his officer, who used his in the latter capacity, Gedge soon following suit.

“That’s what I want them to think, sir,” said Gedge, digging his down at every second pace. “Now, sir, what do you say? Don’t you think we might edge in more towards the snow?”

“Soon,” said Bracy, pointing. “There’s just the spot we want;” and, raising his glass, he stopped to examine a group of blocks of stone some fifty yards from the edge of the snowfield, which here sent down a few sharp points, giving it the appearance at a distance of a huge, vandyked piece of white lace.

“Couldn’t find a better place if we tried, sir,” said Gedge; “but we ain’t left ourselves time enough. If we had thought of it sooner, I could have cut out and made the busbies.”

“We shall have plenty of time for that to-morrow,” said Bracy. “We must manage by tying on handkerchiefs for to-night, and pulling up the great collars as if they were hoods.”

A short time after, each with his handkerchief over his head, the pair crouched behind two stones, upon which their helmets had been placed; and beside them the two sticks were planted, so that at a short distance any one would have been deceived and made to believe that a couple of men were on the watch for danger.

Two men were on the watch for danger, but in a different way, both lying prone, Bracy, with his glass to his eyes, carefully sweeping the distance, and keeping it fixed upon the enemy, who looked strangely quiet, as they grouped together and seemed to be feasting.

“Looks as if they meant to settle there, then, for the night, sir,” said Gedge, as Bracy reported to him everything he noted.

“Yes; it looks so.”

“But we don’t trust ’em, bless yer, sir. That’s their artfulness; foxing—that’s what they’re doing. Won’t be able to see ’em much longer—will you, sir?”

“No; it’s getting dark very fast; but I can make them out, I dare say, till they begin to move.”

“Hope you will, sir,” said Gedge softly, and lying with his knees bent, kicking his feet about in the air, after the fashion of a boy in a field on a sunny day, and looking quite unconscious of the fact that this night might be one of the most terrible they had ever been called upon to pass.

Some minutes elapsed now in perfect silence, during which a fiery look on the topmost peak of one of the mountains died out slowly into cherry red, and finally became invisible, a few stars twinkling out as the red light died.

“Gedge,” said Bracy in a quick whisper, such as he might have uttered had the enemy been close upon them, and about to spring, instead of many hundred yards away.

“Sir?”

“They are on the move.”

“Can’t see ’em, sir.”

“No; and they cannot see us, but I can dimly make them out with the glass. They are separating from their centre, and coming on. Ha! gone. I can see no more.”

He put away the glass in the darkness, which now seemed to roll down upon them like a cloud from the mountains, giving the snowfield a ghastly look which made Bracy hesitate.

“I’m afraid it would be better to go off to the left among the stones.”

“Don’t, sir, pray,” said Gedge earnestly.

“But our dark bodies will show against the snow.”

“Not they, sir. We’ll roll in it, and it’ll be darker in half-an-hour. They’ll be all that before they get here—won’t they?”

“Quite. They are sure to come on very slowly, and allow time for part of them to get right into our rear.”

“Yes, sir; that’s right.”

“Now, then, are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

There was again silence, and, but for the ghostly glare of the snow, all was very dark.

“We seem to be going into the most dangerous place,” whispered Bracy, with his breath coming thickly.

“And that’s the very place they’ll never think we should hide in, sir, if they were likely to think we were going to hide. No, sir: their keen eyes ’ll just make out them two ’elmets, and they’ll think o’ nothing else but driving their long knives into them as wears ’em, from behind. I do hope we shall hear ’em blunting the points against, the stones.”

“Have you everything?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, forward! Go fifty paces slowly over the snow. I shall follow close behind you in your steps.”

The snow yielded, so that they were knee-deep, but it was still loose and so sand-like in its grains that as each foot was withdrawn the icy particles flowed together again into each freshly-made hole.

Five minutes later the adventurous pair lay softly down, and rolled over and over a few times, before lying prone upon their chests, each with his head towards the invisible helmets, and near enough to whisper or touch one another with the hand. Their rifles lay by their sides, with the cartouche-boxes handy: and, in case of a close attack, their revolvers were in the right sides of their belts, half dragged round to the back, while each held his dagger-like bayonet in his band.

“Do you feel the cold, Gedge?” whispered Bracy.

“Cold, sir? Why, I’m as hot as hot. This work’s too warm for a fellow to feel the cold. Do you, sir?”

“No; my face burns as if with fever, and every nerve tingles with excitement. There, we must not even whisper again.”

“Right, sir.”

“The first moment you hear a sound of any one approaching, touch my left arm.”

“Right, sir; but hadn’t I better lie t’other side of you? They’ll come that way.”

“They’ll come from all round at once, my lad. There, don’t be afraid. If we are going to have trouble, I dare say you will get your full share. Now, silence; and when they come you must hardly breathe.”

Then silence ensued, and seemed to Bracy the most oppressive that he had ever encountered in facing danger. For the solemnity of the night in the great mountains was brooding over them, out of which at any moment death, in the shape of a keen knife, might descend. There was not a breath of air, but an icy chill dropped down from above, making the snow crystals turn sharp and crisp, crackling softly at the slightest movement. But the frosty air had no effect upon them, save to make their blood tingle in their veins and a peculiar, pricking sensation play about their nostrils as they drew their breath, tiny needles of ice twining as they respired, and making a hoar-frost upon Bracy’s moustache.

The time went on as if the movement of the earth had been checked by the frost; but, listen as they would, the silence was profound, and a full hour seemed to have passed, though it was not a fourth part of that time.

“They will not come,” thought Bracy, as his eyes were turned in every direction he could force them to sweep, and the change appeared very striking from the black atmosphere in front, and right and left to the faint light suggestive of electricity or phosphorescence which made the snow dimly visible.

But the enemy made no sign: and, with that horrible stillness as of death reigning and seeming to crush them into the snow, they lay waiting and longing for some sound—for the coming of the enemy; for the wild excitement of an encounter would, Bracy felt, be far preferable to that maddening suspense.

As he lay there and thought, his ever-active brain was full of suggestions regarding what would take place. The enemy would not dare to come, and a night’s sleep would have been lost—they would come, see them with their penetrating eyes, pounce upon them, there would be a few savage unexpected strokes, and all would be over; while poor Colonel Graves would watch and wait, looking ever for the succour that did not come.

“But he will not lose faith in his messengers,” Bracy thought, with a thrill of satisfaction running through him. “He will know that I strove to do my best.”

Then his thoughts took another direction. Why should not—after the careful preparations made—therusebe successful, the enemy be deceived, and go in pursuit according to their ideas, leaving the two adventurers free to make their fresh departure? But that, the most natural outcome of the plan, Bracy, in his excitement, set aside as being the least likely to occur, and he lay in agony, straining every nerve to condense his faculties into the one great sense of hearing, till it seemed to him that his companion’s breathing sounded preternaturally loud.

“Why, he’s asleep! The miserable, careless scoundrel!” thought Bracy. “Those men have no thought beyond the present. How can one trust them? How easily we might be surprised if he were the watch!”

A flush of shame made the thinker’s cheeks burn the next moment, he had, in his annoyance, stretched out his left hand to reach dodge’s shoulder and give him a violent shake. But half-way he checked the progress of his hand; for, sotting aside the danger of waking a sleeper and making him start and utter some ejaculation, which might betray them to a lurking enemy, he recalled the fact that a touch was to be the signal to announce the coming of the enemy.

The next moment, as his hand lay upon the snow where he had let it fall, another hand was laid upon it, and his fingers were gripped by a set of fingers which held it fast and gave it a firm, steady pressure, to which he warmly responded, his heart beating fast, and a genial glow of satisfaction running through him in his penitence for misjudging his faithful companion.

Then the hand that grasped his was snatched away, and he lay listening and gazing in every direction that he could command for the danger just signalled to him by Gedge. Nothing to right or left, and he dared not stir to look back over the snow. Nothing in front, not a sign of any one near; and in his excitement he began to wonder whether his companion had made a mistake in his over-eagerness, for the silence was more oppressive than ever.

“What was that?”

A spasm shot through the listener, making every nerve and muscle tense as steel; his breath came thick and fast, and the dull, heavy throb, throb of his heart sounded loudly in his brain—so loudly that he held his breath and would have checked the pulsations if he could.

There was no doubt now: the enemy was close at hand, and Bracy’s fingers closed over the hilt of his bayonet with a tremendous grip, for he felt that his revolver would be useless in that terrible darkness, and he shrank from wasting a shot.

He could see nothing, but there was the danger just in front in the snow of those thirty yards which lay between them and the rocks. That danger was represented to the listeners in imagination by the figure—two figures—of the white-coated enemy, crawling slowly as huge worms might, have progressed over the snow. At times they were perfectly still, but ever and again there was the extremely gentle, crackling sound of the icy grains rubbing together with a soft, rustling sound, no more than a snake would have made passing along a dusty track.

Bracy strained his eyes, but he could see nothing. He could not tell whether the two enemies were a yard or ten or twenty away from where he lay; but his straining ears told him that they were there, passing him from right to left, and he felt convinced that others must be moving slowly from all directions towards that one point, where the helmets were placed upon the pieces of stone.

So far, then, all was right; but he felt that at any moment he might hear others coming along behind, and those might strike the very spot where they two were lying.

Thought after thought of this kind flashed through Bracy’s brain, as he tightened his hold of the bayonet, and held it point upward ready for use against his first assailant, while the strange crepitation of the frozen snow went on for what seemed like a long period, so greatly was everything magnified by the excitement through which it was mentally viewed.

By degrees, though, the creeping sound, which had seemed to stop more than once, ceased entirely, and the listeners waited quite half-an-hour, fancying twice over that they heard the faint click of stone against stone; but they could not be sure, and they dared not communicate otherwise than by a pressure of the hand, for there was still the possibility of the enemy being close in front. Though as the minutes crawled slowly by, and no fresh sound was heard, the feeling grew stronger and stronger that they had attributed the creeping noise to the enemy, when it was probably some inoffensive wild creature seeking for food, while the enemy had passed the spot in the dark, and were by now far away.

Bracy had just come to this conclusion, and had begun to think of the wisdom of crawling off the snow, which was beginning to melt beneath him from the warmth of his body, when his heart gave a leap as if some nerve had received a sudden twitch. For there came low and clear from a short distance away a peculiar sound such as might be produced by a night-bird on the wing. Then all was still once more.

“Was that a signal?” thought Bracy; “or have we been deceived?”

He thought earnestly, and felt that, after all, the enemy would under the circumstances act just as they were acting. There seemed to be an excess of caution, but none too much, approaching as they would be to surprise whoever was on the watch, and going with their lives literally in their hands.

“Phit!”

The same low, peculiar sound again, making Bracy start into a wild fit of excitement. Then there was a quick running as of many feet towards the central spot, followed by clink, clink, clink—the striking of steel on stone, and then a momentary silence, followed by a peculiar rumbling and a burst of voices.

“Gug!”

Bracy turned sharply, bayonet in hand, ready to strike, for the horrible thought struck him that Gedge had just received a tierce thrust which pinned him to the frozen snow; but as he leaned in his direction a hand touched his wrist and gave it a grip, holding it tightly, and making him draw a deep breath full of relief.

Meanwhile the voices increased, their owners talking fiercely, and though the tongue was almost unintelligible, a word was caught here and there, and they grasped the fact that every man seemed to want to talk at once, and to be making suggestions.

But the speakers did not keep to one place. As far as Bracy could make out, they had broken up into parties, which hurried here and there, one coming so near to where the listeners lay that they felt that their time for action had come at last, and, palpitating with excitement, they prepared to meet the first attack.

And now Bracy heard a sound as of some one breathing hard, and turned his head sharply to whisper a word of warning to his companion; but it was not uttered, for the sound came from beyond him, and with its repetition came the sound of laborious steps being taken through the snow, he who made them panting hard with the exertion as he came on to within a couple of yards of Gedge, and then suddenly turned off and made for the rocks.

He made so much noise now that he knew there was no need for concealment, that Gedge took advantage of the man getting more distant to reach over to his officer and whisper, with his lips close to Bracy’s ear:

“That chap ’ll never know how near he was to leaving off snoring like that, sir, for good.”

“Hush!” whispered Bracy, and a fresh burst of talking arose as if to greet the man who had returned to the rocks from making a circuit round the trap.

And now it seemed as if the whole party were spreading out and coming towards where the couple lay, for the voices sounded louder and came nearer, making Bracy gently raise himself ready to hurry his follower away: but the sounds came no closer, the speakers pausing at the edge of the snow, where it sounded as if their plans were; being discussed.

Then all at once the talking ceased, and the beat of many feet, with the rattling of loose stones, fell on the listener’s ears, telling that the enemy was in motion; and the sounds they made grew fainter and fainter, and then died out entirely.

“They seem to be gone,” whispered Bracy, with his lips close to Gedge’s ear.

“Oh yes, they’re gone, sir, at last,” was the reply.

“We must not be too sure. A few may be left behind to keep watch.”

“Not them, sir. I can’t see as it’s likely.”

Bracy was silent for a few moments, during which he listened intently for the faintest sound; but all was still.

“Get up,” he said briefly, and then started at his own voice, it sounded so husky and strange.

Gedge uttered a sigh of relief as he shook the adhering snow from his woolly coat.

“Stiff, Gedge?” said Bracy.

“Horrid, sir. A good fight wouldn’t come amiss. Hear me laugh, sir?”

“When you made that sound?”

“Yes, sir: that bit would come out, though I’d shut my mouth with my hand.”

“What made you laugh at such a time?”

“To hear them cuttin’ and stabbin’ at the rocks, sir, and blunting their knives.”

“Oh, I see!”

“Wonder whether they chopped our ’elmets, sir. Would you mind ordering me to see if there’s any bits left?”

“The task is of no good,” said Bracy. “But we’ll walk back to the place and try if we can find them. Take out your revolver. No. Fix bayonets—we could use them better now.”

There was a faint clicking, and then, with their rifles levelled, the pair marched laboriously off the snow, and then cautiously felt their way among the stones, Bracy’s main object being to find out for certain that there were no sentries left. The noise they could not help making among the stones proved this directly, and they unwittingly, in spite of the darkness, went straight to the spot where they had set up the sticks and helmets, when Gedge uttered a low cry full of excitement.

“Why, they never come across ’em, sir. I’ve got ’em, standing here just as we left ’em. Well, I’m blessed! I know the difference by the feel. That’s yours, sir, and this is mine. Talk about luck! Ha! I feel better now. Woolly busbies is all very well, but they don’t look soldierly. I could have made some right enough, but we should ha’ wanted to take ’em off before we got back to the fort.”

“A splendid bit of luck, Gedge,” said Bracy as he drew the strap of his helmet beneath his chin. “Now for our next step. What do you think?”

“Wittles, sir. Can’t think o’ nothing else just now. I should say, with what we’ve got to do, the next thing’s to begin stoking before our fires go out.”

Chapter Twenty Nine.Awful Moments.It was with serious feelings of compunction that Bracy set this example to his eager companion, by seating himself on one of the stones and beginning to combat the weary sensation of faintness which troubled him by partaking of a portion of his fast-shrinking store of provisions. For the fact was beginning to stare him in the face that, going on as they had begun, their little store could not by any possibility last, till they reached the Ghoorkha camp, and that in depending upon their rifles for a fresh supply they would be leaning upon a very rotten reed, since, surrounded as they seemed to be by enemies, it would be impossible to fire, while everything in the shape of game had so far been absent. But his spirits rose as he refreshed himself.“I will not build imaginary mountains,” he said mentally; “there are plenty about us at last.”“There, sir,” said Gedge, breaking in upon his musings suddenly; “I’m ready for anything now. I should like to lie down and have a good sleep; but I s’pose we mustn’t do that.”“Not till we have crossed that ridge up to the north, Gedge. It will be hard work, but it must be done.”“And get into the valley on the other side, sir, ’fore we go on east’ard?”“Yes.”“S’pose there’ll be a valley t’other side, sir?”“No doubt about it.”“Then, when you’re ready, sir, I am. If we’ve got it to do, let’s begin and get this soft bit over, for we shan’t get along very fast.”“No; the soft snow makes the travelling bad; but we go higher at every step, and by-and-by we may find it hard. Now then, I’ll lead. The ridge must be right before us, as far as I can make out.”“Don’t ask me, sir,” said Gedge. “Wants a cat to see in the dark; but I think you must be right. Best way seems to me to keep on going uphill. That must be right, and when it’s flat or going downhill it must be wrong.”Bracy made no reply, but, after judging the direction as well as he could, strode off, and found that his ideas were right, for at the end of a few minutes the snow was crackling under their feet.“Now for it, Gedge. You’ll have to lift your feet high at every step, while they sink so deeply. Hullo!”There was a sharp crackling as he extended his left foot, bore down upon it, and with a good deal of resistance it went through a crust of ice, but only a short way above the ankle. Quickly bringing up the other foot, he stepped forward, and it crushed through the hardening surface, but only for a few inches. The next step was on the rugged surface of slippery ice, and as they progressed slowly for about a hundred yards, it was to find the surface grow firmer and less disposed to give beneath their weight.“There’s one difficulty mastered,” said Bracy cheerily. “The surface is freezing hard, and we can get on like this till the sun beats upon it again.”“I call it grand, sir; but I hope it won’t get to be more uphill.”“Why?”“Because if we makes one slip we shall go skating down to the bottom of the slope again in double-quick time. I feel a’ready as if I ought to go to the blacksmith’s to get roughed.”“Stamp your feet down if you are disposed to slip, my lad. I do not want to do this, but if the slope grows steeper we must fix bayonets and use them to steady us.”“Take the edge off on ’em, sir.”“Yes; but we must get across the ridge. Forward.”They toiled on, the task growing heavier as they progressed, for the gradient became steeper, and they halted from time to time for a rest, the plan of using the bayonets being kept for a last resource. But there were compensations to make up for the severity of the toil, one of which was expressed by the travellers at one of the halts.“Makes one feel jolly comf’table and warm, sir.”“Yes; and takes away all doubt of our going in the right direction, for we must be right.”“I didn’t think we was at first, sir. ’Tain’t so dark neither.”“No: we are getting higher, and the snow and ice are all round us. Now then, forward!”Crunch, squeak, crunch went the snow as they tramped steadily, with the surface curving slowly upward, till all at once there was a slip, a thud, and a scramble, Gedge was down, and he began to glide, but checked himself with the butt of his rifle.“I’m all right, sir; but I was on the go,” he said, panting.“Hurt?” replied Bracy laconically.“Not a bit, six. Knocked some o’ the wind out o’ me, but I’m all right again now.”“Forward!”Bracy led on again, to find that the curve made by the snowfield rose more and more steeply, and the inclination to slip increased. But he stamped his feet down as he kept on, with his breathing growing quicker, and had the satisfaction of hearing his follower imitate his example, till he began to find that he must soon make another halt.His spirits were rising, however, with an increasing hopeful feeling, for this was evidently the way to avoid pursuit or check. They were on the ice, and to this they must trust for the rest of their journey till they were well within reach of the Ghil Valley, to which they must descend.Slip.In an instant Bracy was down, starting on a rapid descent toward the place they had left; but at his first rush he heard beneath him a sharp blow delivered in the glazed surface, and he was suddenly brought up by the body of Gedge.“Hold tight, sir! All right. I’ve got something to anchor us.”“Ha!” ejaculated Bracy breathlessly. “It was so sudden.”“Yes, sir; don’t give you much time to think. You’d better do as I do.”“What’s that?”“Keep your bay’net in your hand ready to dig down into the ice. Stopped me d’reckly, and that stopped you.”“Yes, I’ll do so. A minute’s rest, and then we’ll go on again.”“Make it two, sir. You sound as if you haven’t got your wind back.”“I shall be all right directly, my lad. This is grand. I hope by daylight that we shall be in safety.”“That’s right, sir. My! shouldn’t I have liked this when I was a youngster! Think we shall come back this way?”“Possibly,” said Bracy.“Be easy travelling, sir. Why, we could sit down on our heels and skim along on the nails of our boots, with nothing to do but steer.”“Don’t talk, my lad,” said Bracy. “Now, forward once more.”The journey was continued, and grew so laborious at last from the smoothness of the ice, which increased as the gradient grew heavier—the melted snow having run and made the surface more compact during the sunny noon; and at the end of another couple of hours the difficulty of getting on and up was so great that Bracy changed his course a little so as to lessen the ascent by taking it diagonally.This made matters a little better, and tramp, tramp, they went on and on, rising more swiftly than they knew, and little incommoded now by the darkness, for the stars were shining out through the cloudy mist which hung over the slope, while their spirits seemed to rise with the ascent.“Have we passed the rocks along which we saw that body of men moving?” said Bracy at last.“I s’pose not, sir, or we must have felt ’em. They must have been a long way off when we saw ’em going along.”“Yes; the distances are very deceptive, and—Ah! stones, rocks. Here is the rough track at last.”They halted again, for by walking here and there they could make out that there was a rough track to right and left, comparatively free from snow, and if this were followed to the right there would be travelling which would necessitate their waiting for daylight, since it was all in and out among huge masses of stone.“We couldn’t get along here, sir, very fast,” said Gedge after making a few essays.“No, it is impossible now,” replied Bracy. “It would be a dangerous way, too, for it must, as we saw, cut the valley when; the enemy will come out.”He stood looking back and around him, to see that the darkness was lightened by the strange faint glare from the ice and snow around him; then, turning, he crossed the ridge of broken rocks and tried what the slope seemed like upon the other side, to find that it was a continuation of that up which they had toiled, and apparently much the same, the gradual curve upward to the mountain being cut by this band of rocks.“Forward again, Gedge,” he cried. “This must be right, for we are getting a trifle nearer to our journey’s end, and more out of reach of our pursuers.”“Then it is right, sir; but I suppose we shall get a bit o’ downhill some time.”They tramped on for the next hour, but not without making several halts, three of which were involuntary, and caused by more or less sudden slips. These were saved from being serious by the quick action of driving dagger-like the bayonet each carried into the frozen snow; and after repetitions of this the falls seemed to lose; their risky character, the man who went down scrambling to his feet again the next instant and being ready to proceed. The still air was piercingly cold, but it only seemed to make their blood thrill in their veins, and a sense of exhilaration arose from the warm glow which pervaded them, and temptingly suggested the removal of their woollenposhtins. But the temptation was forced back, and the tramp continued hour after hour up what seemed to be an interminable slope, while fatigue was persistently ignored.At last, though, Bracy was brought to a halt, and he stood panting.“Anything wrong, sir?” whispered Gedge hoarsely.“No; only that I can get no farther in this way. We must fix bayonets, and use our rifles as staves.”“Right, sir.”“Be careful not to force your barrel down too far, so as to get it plugged with the snow,” said Bracy; and then, as soon as the keen-pointed weapons were fixed, he started onward again, the rifles answering this new purpose admirably, and giving a steadiness to the progress that had before been wanting.Consequently far better progress was made for the next half-hour, with much less exertion, and Bracy made up his mind that the first patch of pines they came to on the lower ground should supply them with a couple of saplings whose poles should have the bayonets fixed or bound upon them, so as to take the place of the rifles.“I’m longing for the daylight, Gedge,” said Bracy suddenly, for they had plunged into a mist which obscured the stars, “so that we can see better in which direction to go, for we ought to be high enough now to be safe from— Ha!”Then silence.“Safe from what, sir?” said Gedge, stopping short.There was no reply, and after waiting a few seconds, feeling alarmed, the lad spoke again.“Didn’t quite hear what you said, sir; safe from what?”There was no reply, and Gedge suddenly turned frantic.“Mr Bracy, sir,” he said hoarsely, and then, raising his voice, he called his officer by name again and again; but the same terrible darkness and silence reigned together, and he grew maddened now.“Oh Lor’!” he cried, “what’s come to him?” and he went upon his hands and knees to crawl and feel about. “He’s gone down in a fit, and slipped sudden right away; for he ain’t here. He’s half-way down the mountain by now, and I don’t know which way to go and help him, and— Ah!” he shrieked wildly, and threw himself over backwards, to begin rolling and sliding swiftly back in the way he had come, his rifle escaping from his grasp.

It was with serious feelings of compunction that Bracy set this example to his eager companion, by seating himself on one of the stones and beginning to combat the weary sensation of faintness which troubled him by partaking of a portion of his fast-shrinking store of provisions. For the fact was beginning to stare him in the face that, going on as they had begun, their little store could not by any possibility last, till they reached the Ghoorkha camp, and that in depending upon their rifles for a fresh supply they would be leaning upon a very rotten reed, since, surrounded as they seemed to be by enemies, it would be impossible to fire, while everything in the shape of game had so far been absent. But his spirits rose as he refreshed himself.

“I will not build imaginary mountains,” he said mentally; “there are plenty about us at last.”

“There, sir,” said Gedge, breaking in upon his musings suddenly; “I’m ready for anything now. I should like to lie down and have a good sleep; but I s’pose we mustn’t do that.”

“Not till we have crossed that ridge up to the north, Gedge. It will be hard work, but it must be done.”

“And get into the valley on the other side, sir, ’fore we go on east’ard?”

“Yes.”

“S’pose there’ll be a valley t’other side, sir?”

“No doubt about it.”

“Then, when you’re ready, sir, I am. If we’ve got it to do, let’s begin and get this soft bit over, for we shan’t get along very fast.”

“No; the soft snow makes the travelling bad; but we go higher at every step, and by-and-by we may find it hard. Now then, I’ll lead. The ridge must be right before us, as far as I can make out.”

“Don’t ask me, sir,” said Gedge. “Wants a cat to see in the dark; but I think you must be right. Best way seems to me to keep on going uphill. That must be right, and when it’s flat or going downhill it must be wrong.”

Bracy made no reply, but, after judging the direction as well as he could, strode off, and found that his ideas were right, for at the end of a few minutes the snow was crackling under their feet.

“Now for it, Gedge. You’ll have to lift your feet high at every step, while they sink so deeply. Hullo!”

There was a sharp crackling as he extended his left foot, bore down upon it, and with a good deal of resistance it went through a crust of ice, but only a short way above the ankle. Quickly bringing up the other foot, he stepped forward, and it crushed through the hardening surface, but only for a few inches. The next step was on the rugged surface of slippery ice, and as they progressed slowly for about a hundred yards, it was to find the surface grow firmer and less disposed to give beneath their weight.

“There’s one difficulty mastered,” said Bracy cheerily. “The surface is freezing hard, and we can get on like this till the sun beats upon it again.”

“I call it grand, sir; but I hope it won’t get to be more uphill.”

“Why?”

“Because if we makes one slip we shall go skating down to the bottom of the slope again in double-quick time. I feel a’ready as if I ought to go to the blacksmith’s to get roughed.”

“Stamp your feet down if you are disposed to slip, my lad. I do not want to do this, but if the slope grows steeper we must fix bayonets and use them to steady us.”

“Take the edge off on ’em, sir.”

“Yes; but we must get across the ridge. Forward.”

They toiled on, the task growing heavier as they progressed, for the gradient became steeper, and they halted from time to time for a rest, the plan of using the bayonets being kept for a last resource. But there were compensations to make up for the severity of the toil, one of which was expressed by the travellers at one of the halts.

“Makes one feel jolly comf’table and warm, sir.”

“Yes; and takes away all doubt of our going in the right direction, for we must be right.”

“I didn’t think we was at first, sir. ’Tain’t so dark neither.”

“No: we are getting higher, and the snow and ice are all round us. Now then, forward!”

Crunch, squeak, crunch went the snow as they tramped steadily, with the surface curving slowly upward, till all at once there was a slip, a thud, and a scramble, Gedge was down, and he began to glide, but checked himself with the butt of his rifle.

“I’m all right, sir; but I was on the go,” he said, panting.

“Hurt?” replied Bracy laconically.

“Not a bit, six. Knocked some o’ the wind out o’ me, but I’m all right again now.”

“Forward!”

Bracy led on again, to find that the curve made by the snowfield rose more and more steeply, and the inclination to slip increased. But he stamped his feet down as he kept on, with his breathing growing quicker, and had the satisfaction of hearing his follower imitate his example, till he began to find that he must soon make another halt.

His spirits were rising, however, with an increasing hopeful feeling, for this was evidently the way to avoid pursuit or check. They were on the ice, and to this they must trust for the rest of their journey till they were well within reach of the Ghil Valley, to which they must descend.

Slip.

In an instant Bracy was down, starting on a rapid descent toward the place they had left; but at his first rush he heard beneath him a sharp blow delivered in the glazed surface, and he was suddenly brought up by the body of Gedge.

“Hold tight, sir! All right. I’ve got something to anchor us.”

“Ha!” ejaculated Bracy breathlessly. “It was so sudden.”

“Yes, sir; don’t give you much time to think. You’d better do as I do.”

“What’s that?”

“Keep your bay’net in your hand ready to dig down into the ice. Stopped me d’reckly, and that stopped you.”

“Yes, I’ll do so. A minute’s rest, and then we’ll go on again.”

“Make it two, sir. You sound as if you haven’t got your wind back.”

“I shall be all right directly, my lad. This is grand. I hope by daylight that we shall be in safety.”

“That’s right, sir. My! shouldn’t I have liked this when I was a youngster! Think we shall come back this way?”

“Possibly,” said Bracy.

“Be easy travelling, sir. Why, we could sit down on our heels and skim along on the nails of our boots, with nothing to do but steer.”

“Don’t talk, my lad,” said Bracy. “Now, forward once more.”

The journey was continued, and grew so laborious at last from the smoothness of the ice, which increased as the gradient grew heavier—the melted snow having run and made the surface more compact during the sunny noon; and at the end of another couple of hours the difficulty of getting on and up was so great that Bracy changed his course a little so as to lessen the ascent by taking it diagonally.

This made matters a little better, and tramp, tramp, they went on and on, rising more swiftly than they knew, and little incommoded now by the darkness, for the stars were shining out through the cloudy mist which hung over the slope, while their spirits seemed to rise with the ascent.

“Have we passed the rocks along which we saw that body of men moving?” said Bracy at last.

“I s’pose not, sir, or we must have felt ’em. They must have been a long way off when we saw ’em going along.”

“Yes; the distances are very deceptive, and—Ah! stones, rocks. Here is the rough track at last.”

They halted again, for by walking here and there they could make out that there was a rough track to right and left, comparatively free from snow, and if this were followed to the right there would be travelling which would necessitate their waiting for daylight, since it was all in and out among huge masses of stone.

“We couldn’t get along here, sir, very fast,” said Gedge after making a few essays.

“No, it is impossible now,” replied Bracy. “It would be a dangerous way, too, for it must, as we saw, cut the valley when; the enemy will come out.”

He stood looking back and around him, to see that the darkness was lightened by the strange faint glare from the ice and snow around him; then, turning, he crossed the ridge of broken rocks and tried what the slope seemed like upon the other side, to find that it was a continuation of that up which they had toiled, and apparently much the same, the gradual curve upward to the mountain being cut by this band of rocks.

“Forward again, Gedge,” he cried. “This must be right, for we are getting a trifle nearer to our journey’s end, and more out of reach of our pursuers.”

“Then it is right, sir; but I suppose we shall get a bit o’ downhill some time.”

They tramped on for the next hour, but not without making several halts, three of which were involuntary, and caused by more or less sudden slips. These were saved from being serious by the quick action of driving dagger-like the bayonet each carried into the frozen snow; and after repetitions of this the falls seemed to lose; their risky character, the man who went down scrambling to his feet again the next instant and being ready to proceed. The still air was piercingly cold, but it only seemed to make their blood thrill in their veins, and a sense of exhilaration arose from the warm glow which pervaded them, and temptingly suggested the removal of their woollenposhtins. But the temptation was forced back, and the tramp continued hour after hour up what seemed to be an interminable slope, while fatigue was persistently ignored.

At last, though, Bracy was brought to a halt, and he stood panting.

“Anything wrong, sir?” whispered Gedge hoarsely.

“No; only that I can get no farther in this way. We must fix bayonets, and use our rifles as staves.”

“Right, sir.”

“Be careful not to force your barrel down too far, so as to get it plugged with the snow,” said Bracy; and then, as soon as the keen-pointed weapons were fixed, he started onward again, the rifles answering this new purpose admirably, and giving a steadiness to the progress that had before been wanting.

Consequently far better progress was made for the next half-hour, with much less exertion, and Bracy made up his mind that the first patch of pines they came to on the lower ground should supply them with a couple of saplings whose poles should have the bayonets fixed or bound upon them, so as to take the place of the rifles.

“I’m longing for the daylight, Gedge,” said Bracy suddenly, for they had plunged into a mist which obscured the stars, “so that we can see better in which direction to go, for we ought to be high enough now to be safe from— Ha!”

Then silence.

“Safe from what, sir?” said Gedge, stopping short.

There was no reply, and after waiting a few seconds, feeling alarmed, the lad spoke again.

“Didn’t quite hear what you said, sir; safe from what?”

There was no reply, and Gedge suddenly turned frantic.

“Mr Bracy, sir,” he said hoarsely, and then, raising his voice, he called his officer by name again and again; but the same terrible darkness and silence reigned together, and he grew maddened now.

“Oh Lor’!” he cried, “what’s come to him?” and he went upon his hands and knees to crawl and feel about. “He’s gone down in a fit, and slipped sudden right away; for he ain’t here. He’s half-way down the mountain by now, and I don’t know which way to go and help him, and— Ah!” he shrieked wildly, and threw himself over backwards, to begin rolling and sliding swiftly back in the way he had come, his rifle escaping from his grasp.

Chapter Thirty.A Prayer for Light.Gedge glided rapidly down the icy slope for a good fifty yards in the darkness, with the pace increasing, before he was able to turn on his back and check himself by forcing his heels into the frozen snow.“And my rifle gone—where I shall never find it again,” was his first thought, as he forced back his helmet, which had been driven over his eyes: but, just as the thought was grasped, he was conscious of a scratching, scraping noise approaching, and he had just time to fling out his hands and catch his weapon, the effort, however, sending him gliding down again, this time to check himself by bringing the point of the bayonet to bear upon the snow. And now stopped, he lay motionless for a few moments.“Mustn’t be in a flurry,” he panted, with his heart beating violently, “or I shan’t find the gov’nor, and I must find him. I will find him, pore chap. Want to think it out cool like, and I’m as hot as if I’d been runnin’ a mile. Now then; he’s gone down, and he must ha’ gone strite down here, so if I lets myself slither gently I’m sure to come upon him, for I shall be pulled up same as he’d be.”He lay panting, still, for a few minutes, and his thinking powers, which had been upset by the suddenness of the scare, began to settle themselves again. Then he listened as he went on, putting, as he mentally termed it, that and that together.“Can’t hear nothing of him,” he said to himself. “He must have gone down with a rush ’stead o’ falling in a fit as I thought fust; but it ain’t like a fall. He wouldn’t smash hisself, on’y rub some skin off, and he’ll be hollering to me d’reckly from somewheres below. Oh dear! if it only warn’t so precious dark I might see him: but there ain’t no moon, and no stars now, and it’s no use to light a match. I say, why don’t he holler?—I could hear him a mile away—or use his whistle? He’d know that would bring me, and be safer than shouting. But I can’t hear nothing on him. Here: I know.”Gedge rose to his feet and drove his bayonet into the snow to steady himself, without turning either to the right or the left.“Mustn’t change front,” he said, “or I may go sliding down wrong and pass him,” he thought. Then raising his hand, he thrust two fingers into his mouth and produced a long drawn whistle, which was a near imitation of that which would be blown by an officer to bring his men together to rally round him and form square.“That ought to wake him up,” he thought. “He’d hear that if he was miles away.”There was a faint reply which made his heart leap; and thrusting his fingers between his lips, he whistled again in a peculiar way, with the result that the sound came back as before, and Gedge’s heart sank with something akin to despair.“’Tain’t him,” he groaned. “It’s them blessed eckers. I’ll make sure, though.”He stood listening for some minutes, and then, with his heart feeling like lead, took off his helmet and wiped his dripping brow.“Oh dear!” he groaned; “ain’t it dark! Reg’lar fog, and cold as cold. Makes a chap shiver. I dunno how it is. When I’m along with him I feel as bold as a lion. I ain’t afeared o’ anything. I’d foller him anywheres, and face as many as he’d lead me agen. ’Tain’t braggin’, for I’ve done it; but I’m blessed now if I don’t feel a reg’lar mouse—a poor, shiverin’ wet mouse with his back up, and ready to die o’ fright through being caught in a trap, just as the poor little beggars do, and turns it up without being hurt a bit. I can’t help it; I’m a beastly coward; and I says it out aloud for any one to bear. That’s it—a cussed coward, and I can’t help it, ’cause I was born so. He’s gone, and I shan’t never find him agen, and there’s nothing left for me to do but sneak back to the fort, and tell the Colonel as we did try, but luck was agen us.“Nay, I won’t,” he muttered. “I’ll never show my face there again, even if they call it desertion, unless I can get to the Ghoorkha Colonel and tell him to bring up his toothpick brigade.“Oh, here, I say, Bill, old man,” he said aloud after a pause, during which he listened in vain for some signal from his officer, “this here won’t do. This ain’t acting like a sojer o’ the Queen. Standin’ still here till yer get yerself froze inter a pillar o’ salt. You’ve got to fetch your orficer just as much now as if if hailed bullets and bits o’ rusty ragged iron. Here goes. Pull yourself together, old man! Yer wanted to have a slide, so now’s your time.”Grasping his rifle, he squatted down on his heels, and laid the weapon across his knees preparatory to setting himself in motion, on the faint chance of gliding down to where Bracy would have gone before him.“Would you have thought it so steep that he could have slithered away like that? But there it is,” he muttered. “Now then, here goes.” Letting himself go, he began to glide slowly upon his well-nailed shoes; then the speed increased, and he would the next minute have been rushing rapidly down the slope had he not driven in his heels and stopped himself.“Well, one can put on the brake when one likes,” he muttered; “but he couldn’t ha’ gone like this or I should have heard him making just the same sort o’ noise. He had no time to sit down; he must ha’ gone on his side or his back, heads up or heads down, and not so very fast. If I go down like this I shall be flying by him, and p’raps never stop till I get to the end of the snow. I know—I’ll lie down.”Throwing himself over on his side, he gave a thrust with his hands and began to glide, but very slowly, and in a few seconds the wool of hisposhtinadhered so firmly to the smooth surface that he was brought up and had to start himself again.This took place twice, and he slowly rose to his feet.“Wants a good start,” he muttered, and he was about to throw himself down when a fresh thought crossed his brain.“I don’t care,” he said aloud, as if addressing some one who had spoken; “think what yer like, I ain’t afraid to pitch myself down and go skidding to the bottom, and get up with all the skin off! I sez he ain’t down there. I never heerd him go, and there’s something more than I knows on. It is a fit, and he’s lying up yonder. Bill Gedge, lad, you’re a-going wrong.”He stood trying to pierce the thickening mist, looking as nearly as he could judge straight upward in the course they had taken, and was about to start: but, not satisfied, he took out his match-box, struck a light, and, holding it down, sought for the marks made by the bayonets in the climb. But there was no sign where he stood, neither was there to his left; and, taking a few paces to the right, with the rapidly-burning match close to the snow, the flame was just reaching his fingers when he uttered a sigh of satisfaction: for, as the light had to be dropped, there, one after the other, he saw two marks in the freshly-chipped snow glistening in the faint light. Keeping their direction fresh in his mind, he stalled upward on his search.“How far did I come down?” he said to himself. “I reckon ’bout a hundred yards. Say ’undred and twenty steps.”He went on taking the hundred and twenty paces, and then he stopped short.“Must be close here somewhere,” he muttered; and he paused to listen, but there was not a sound.“Nobody couldn’t hear me up here,” he thought, and he called his companion by name, to rouse up strange echoes from close at hand; and when he changed to whistling, the echoes were sudden and startling in the extreme.“It’s rum,” said Gedge. “He was just in front of me, one minute talking to me, and then ‘Ha!’ he says, and he was gone.”Gedge took off his helmet, and wiped his wet brow again before replacing it.“Ugh, you idjit!” he muttered. “You were right at first. He dropped down in a sort o’ fit from overdoing it—one as took him all at wunst, and he’s lying somewheres about fast asleep, as people goes off in the snow and never wakes again. He’s lying close by here somewheres, and you ought to have done fust what you’re going to do last.“Mustn’t forget where I left you,” he muttered as he gave a dig down with his rifle, driving the bayonet into the snow, and sending some scraps flying with a curious whispering noise which startled him.“What does that mean?” he said, and he caught at the butt of his piece, now sticking upward in the snow, but dropped his hand again to his pocket and again took out his match-box.“Sort o’ fancy,” he muttered; and, getting out a match, he struck it, after shutting the box with a snap, which again made him start, something like an echo rising from close at hand.“Why, I’m as nervous as a great gal,” he muttered, as the tiny match burst into a bright flame which formed a bit of a halo about itself, and, stooping to bring the tiny clear light burning so brightly close to the surface, he took two steps forward, the ground at the second giving way beneath him, and at the same moment he uttered a wild shriek of horror, dashed the match from him, and threw himself backward on to the snow. For the tiny light had in that one brief moment revealed a horror to him which was a full explanation of the trouble, and as he lay trembling in every limb, his shriek was repeated from a short distance away, and then again and again rapidly, till it took the form of a wild burst of laughter.“Get up, you coward!” growled Gedge the next minute, as he made a brave effort to master the terrible shock he had sustained, for he felt that he had been within an inch of following his officer to a horrible death.The self-delivered charge of cowardice brought him to himself directly, and he sprang to his feet. Then, with fingers wet with a cold perspiration, and trembling as if with palsy, he dragged out his match-box, took out one of the tiny tapers, and essayed to light it, but only produced streaks of phosphorescent light, for he had taken the match out by the end, and his wet fingers had quenched its lighting powers.With the next attempt he was more successful; and, setting aside all fear of being seen, he held out the flaming light, which burned without motion in the still air, and, holding it before him, stepped towards the edge of the snow, which ended suddenly in a black gulf, over which he was in the act of leaning, when once more he sprang back and listened, for the snow where he stood had given way, and as he remained motionless for a few moments, there suddenly came up from far below, a dull thud, followed by a strange whispering series of echoes as if off the face of some rocks beyond.“Oh!” he groaned. “That’s it, then. It was down there he went; and he must be killed.”It was one of the young soldier’s weak moments; but his life of late had taught him self-concentration and the necessity for action, and he recovered himself quickly. The trembling fit passed off, and he look out another match, lit it, stepped as near as he dared to the edge of the gulf, and then pitched the burning flame gently from him, seeing it go down out of sight; but nothing more, for the place was immense.He lay down upon his breast now, and crawled in what seemed to be greater darkness, consequent upon the light he had burned having made his eyes contract, and worked himself so close that his hand was over the edge, a short distance to the left of where he had broken it away with his weight. Here he gathered up a handful of the frozen snow, threw it from him, and listened till a faint pattering sound came up.His next act was to utter a shout, which came back at once, as if from a wall of rock, while other repetitions seemed to come from right and left. Then, raising his fingers to his mouth, he gave vent to a long, shrill whistle, which he repeated again and again, and then, with a strange stony sensation, he worked himself slowly back, feet foremost, at first very slowly, and then with frantic haste, as it suddenly dawned upon him that he was going uphill. For the snowy mass was sinking, and it was only just in time that he reached a firmer part, and lay quivering in the darkness, while he listened to a rushing sound, for his weight had started an immense cornice-like piece of the snow, which went down with a sullen roar.“It’s no use while it’s like this,” groaned Gedge. “I can’t do nothing to help him till the day comes. I should on’y be chucking my own life away. I’d do it if it was any good; but it wouldn’t be no use to try, and I might p’raps find him if I could only see.”He had risen to his knees now, and the position brought the words to his lips; the rough lad speaking, but with as perfect reverence as ever came from the lips of man:“Oh, please, God, can’t you make the light come soon, and end this dreadful night?”Poor, rough, rude Bill Gedge had covered his eyes as he softly whispered his prayer; and when he opened them again, it was to look upon no marvel greater than that grand old miracle which we, with leaden eyes sealed up, allow to pass away unheeded, unseen. It was but the beginning of another of the many days seen in a wild mountain land; for the watchings and tramps of the two adventurers had pretty well used up the hours of darkness; and, black though the snow lay where Bill Gedge knelt, right beyond, straight away upon the mighty peak overhead, there was a tiny point of glowing orange light, looking like the tip of some huge spear that was heated red-hot.For the supplicant was gazing heavenward, and between the sky and his eyes there towered up one of the huge peaks of the Karakoram range, receiving the first touch of the coming day.

Gedge glided rapidly down the icy slope for a good fifty yards in the darkness, with the pace increasing, before he was able to turn on his back and check himself by forcing his heels into the frozen snow.

“And my rifle gone—where I shall never find it again,” was his first thought, as he forced back his helmet, which had been driven over his eyes: but, just as the thought was grasped, he was conscious of a scratching, scraping noise approaching, and he had just time to fling out his hands and catch his weapon, the effort, however, sending him gliding down again, this time to check himself by bringing the point of the bayonet to bear upon the snow. And now stopped, he lay motionless for a few moments.

“Mustn’t be in a flurry,” he panted, with his heart beating violently, “or I shan’t find the gov’nor, and I must find him. I will find him, pore chap. Want to think it out cool like, and I’m as hot as if I’d been runnin’ a mile. Now then; he’s gone down, and he must ha’ gone strite down here, so if I lets myself slither gently I’m sure to come upon him, for I shall be pulled up same as he’d be.”

He lay panting, still, for a few minutes, and his thinking powers, which had been upset by the suddenness of the scare, began to settle themselves again. Then he listened as he went on, putting, as he mentally termed it, that and that together.

“Can’t hear nothing of him,” he said to himself. “He must have gone down with a rush ’stead o’ falling in a fit as I thought fust; but it ain’t like a fall. He wouldn’t smash hisself, on’y rub some skin off, and he’ll be hollering to me d’reckly from somewheres below. Oh dear! if it only warn’t so precious dark I might see him: but there ain’t no moon, and no stars now, and it’s no use to light a match. I say, why don’t he holler?—I could hear him a mile away—or use his whistle? He’d know that would bring me, and be safer than shouting. But I can’t hear nothing on him. Here: I know.”

Gedge rose to his feet and drove his bayonet into the snow to steady himself, without turning either to the right or the left.

“Mustn’t change front,” he said, “or I may go sliding down wrong and pass him,” he thought. Then raising his hand, he thrust two fingers into his mouth and produced a long drawn whistle, which was a near imitation of that which would be blown by an officer to bring his men together to rally round him and form square.

“That ought to wake him up,” he thought. “He’d hear that if he was miles away.”

There was a faint reply which made his heart leap; and thrusting his fingers between his lips, he whistled again in a peculiar way, with the result that the sound came back as before, and Gedge’s heart sank with something akin to despair.

“’Tain’t him,” he groaned. “It’s them blessed eckers. I’ll make sure, though.”

He stood listening for some minutes, and then, with his heart feeling like lead, took off his helmet and wiped his dripping brow.

“Oh dear!” he groaned; “ain’t it dark! Reg’lar fog, and cold as cold. Makes a chap shiver. I dunno how it is. When I’m along with him I feel as bold as a lion. I ain’t afeared o’ anything. I’d foller him anywheres, and face as many as he’d lead me agen. ’Tain’t braggin’, for I’ve done it; but I’m blessed now if I don’t feel a reg’lar mouse—a poor, shiverin’ wet mouse with his back up, and ready to die o’ fright through being caught in a trap, just as the poor little beggars do, and turns it up without being hurt a bit. I can’t help it; I’m a beastly coward; and I says it out aloud for any one to bear. That’s it—a cussed coward, and I can’t help it, ’cause I was born so. He’s gone, and I shan’t never find him agen, and there’s nothing left for me to do but sneak back to the fort, and tell the Colonel as we did try, but luck was agen us.

“Nay, I won’t,” he muttered. “I’ll never show my face there again, even if they call it desertion, unless I can get to the Ghoorkha Colonel and tell him to bring up his toothpick brigade.

“Oh, here, I say, Bill, old man,” he said aloud after a pause, during which he listened in vain for some signal from his officer, “this here won’t do. This ain’t acting like a sojer o’ the Queen. Standin’ still here till yer get yerself froze inter a pillar o’ salt. You’ve got to fetch your orficer just as much now as if if hailed bullets and bits o’ rusty ragged iron. Here goes. Pull yourself together, old man! Yer wanted to have a slide, so now’s your time.”

Grasping his rifle, he squatted down on his heels, and laid the weapon across his knees preparatory to setting himself in motion, on the faint chance of gliding down to where Bracy would have gone before him.

“Would you have thought it so steep that he could have slithered away like that? But there it is,” he muttered. “Now then, here goes.” Letting himself go, he began to glide slowly upon his well-nailed shoes; then the speed increased, and he would the next minute have been rushing rapidly down the slope had he not driven in his heels and stopped himself.

“Well, one can put on the brake when one likes,” he muttered; “but he couldn’t ha’ gone like this or I should have heard him making just the same sort o’ noise. He had no time to sit down; he must ha’ gone on his side or his back, heads up or heads down, and not so very fast. If I go down like this I shall be flying by him, and p’raps never stop till I get to the end of the snow. I know—I’ll lie down.”

Throwing himself over on his side, he gave a thrust with his hands and began to glide, but very slowly, and in a few seconds the wool of hisposhtinadhered so firmly to the smooth surface that he was brought up and had to start himself again.

This took place twice, and he slowly rose to his feet.

“Wants a good start,” he muttered, and he was about to throw himself down when a fresh thought crossed his brain.

“I don’t care,” he said aloud, as if addressing some one who had spoken; “think what yer like, I ain’t afraid to pitch myself down and go skidding to the bottom, and get up with all the skin off! I sez he ain’t down there. I never heerd him go, and there’s something more than I knows on. It is a fit, and he’s lying up yonder. Bill Gedge, lad, you’re a-going wrong.”

He stood trying to pierce the thickening mist, looking as nearly as he could judge straight upward in the course they had taken, and was about to start: but, not satisfied, he took out his match-box, struck a light, and, holding it down, sought for the marks made by the bayonets in the climb. But there was no sign where he stood, neither was there to his left; and, taking a few paces to the right, with the rapidly-burning match close to the snow, the flame was just reaching his fingers when he uttered a sigh of satisfaction: for, as the light had to be dropped, there, one after the other, he saw two marks in the freshly-chipped snow glistening in the faint light. Keeping their direction fresh in his mind, he stalled upward on his search.

“How far did I come down?” he said to himself. “I reckon ’bout a hundred yards. Say ’undred and twenty steps.”

He went on taking the hundred and twenty paces, and then he stopped short.

“Must be close here somewhere,” he muttered; and he paused to listen, but there was not a sound.

“Nobody couldn’t hear me up here,” he thought, and he called his companion by name, to rouse up strange echoes from close at hand; and when he changed to whistling, the echoes were sudden and startling in the extreme.

“It’s rum,” said Gedge. “He was just in front of me, one minute talking to me, and then ‘Ha!’ he says, and he was gone.”

Gedge took off his helmet, and wiped his wet brow again before replacing it.

“Ugh, you idjit!” he muttered. “You were right at first. He dropped down in a sort o’ fit from overdoing it—one as took him all at wunst, and he’s lying somewheres about fast asleep, as people goes off in the snow and never wakes again. He’s lying close by here somewheres, and you ought to have done fust what you’re going to do last.

“Mustn’t forget where I left you,” he muttered as he gave a dig down with his rifle, driving the bayonet into the snow, and sending some scraps flying with a curious whispering noise which startled him.

“What does that mean?” he said, and he caught at the butt of his piece, now sticking upward in the snow, but dropped his hand again to his pocket and again took out his match-box.

“Sort o’ fancy,” he muttered; and, getting out a match, he struck it, after shutting the box with a snap, which again made him start, something like an echo rising from close at hand.

“Why, I’m as nervous as a great gal,” he muttered, as the tiny match burst into a bright flame which formed a bit of a halo about itself, and, stooping to bring the tiny clear light burning so brightly close to the surface, he took two steps forward, the ground at the second giving way beneath him, and at the same moment he uttered a wild shriek of horror, dashed the match from him, and threw himself backward on to the snow. For the tiny light had in that one brief moment revealed a horror to him which was a full explanation of the trouble, and as he lay trembling in every limb, his shriek was repeated from a short distance away, and then again and again rapidly, till it took the form of a wild burst of laughter.

“Get up, you coward!” growled Gedge the next minute, as he made a brave effort to master the terrible shock he had sustained, for he felt that he had been within an inch of following his officer to a horrible death.

The self-delivered charge of cowardice brought him to himself directly, and he sprang to his feet. Then, with fingers wet with a cold perspiration, and trembling as if with palsy, he dragged out his match-box, took out one of the tiny tapers, and essayed to light it, but only produced streaks of phosphorescent light, for he had taken the match out by the end, and his wet fingers had quenched its lighting powers.

With the next attempt he was more successful; and, setting aside all fear of being seen, he held out the flaming light, which burned without motion in the still air, and, holding it before him, stepped towards the edge of the snow, which ended suddenly in a black gulf, over which he was in the act of leaning, when once more he sprang back and listened, for the snow where he stood had given way, and as he remained motionless for a few moments, there suddenly came up from far below, a dull thud, followed by a strange whispering series of echoes as if off the face of some rocks beyond.

“Oh!” he groaned. “That’s it, then. It was down there he went; and he must be killed.”

It was one of the young soldier’s weak moments; but his life of late had taught him self-concentration and the necessity for action, and he recovered himself quickly. The trembling fit passed off, and he look out another match, lit it, stepped as near as he dared to the edge of the gulf, and then pitched the burning flame gently from him, seeing it go down out of sight; but nothing more, for the place was immense.

He lay down upon his breast now, and crawled in what seemed to be greater darkness, consequent upon the light he had burned having made his eyes contract, and worked himself so close that his hand was over the edge, a short distance to the left of where he had broken it away with his weight. Here he gathered up a handful of the frozen snow, threw it from him, and listened till a faint pattering sound came up.

His next act was to utter a shout, which came back at once, as if from a wall of rock, while other repetitions seemed to come from right and left. Then, raising his fingers to his mouth, he gave vent to a long, shrill whistle, which he repeated again and again, and then, with a strange stony sensation, he worked himself slowly back, feet foremost, at first very slowly, and then with frantic haste, as it suddenly dawned upon him that he was going uphill. For the snowy mass was sinking, and it was only just in time that he reached a firmer part, and lay quivering in the darkness, while he listened to a rushing sound, for his weight had started an immense cornice-like piece of the snow, which went down with a sullen roar.

“It’s no use while it’s like this,” groaned Gedge. “I can’t do nothing to help him till the day comes. I should on’y be chucking my own life away. I’d do it if it was any good; but it wouldn’t be no use to try, and I might p’raps find him if I could only see.”

He had risen to his knees now, and the position brought the words to his lips; the rough lad speaking, but with as perfect reverence as ever came from the lips of man:

“Oh, please, God, can’t you make the light come soon, and end this dreadful night?”

Poor, rough, rude Bill Gedge had covered his eyes as he softly whispered his prayer; and when he opened them again, it was to look upon no marvel greater than that grand old miracle which we, with leaden eyes sealed up, allow to pass away unheeded, unseen. It was but the beginning of another of the many days seen in a wild mountain land; for the watchings and tramps of the two adventurers had pretty well used up the hours of darkness; and, black though the snow lay where Bill Gedge knelt, right beyond, straight away upon the mighty peak overhead, there was a tiny point of glowing orange light, looking like the tip of some huge spear that was heated red-hot.

For the supplicant was gazing heavenward, and between the sky and his eyes there towered up one of the huge peaks of the Karakoram range, receiving the first touch of the coming day.

Chapter Thirty One.The Light that came.Gedge knelt there gazing upward, unable to grasp the truth of that which he saw; for all around him seemed blacker than ever; but as he looked there was another glowing speck high up in the distance, and then another and another started into sight, while the first he had seen went on increasing in brightness; and, as he still kept his eyes fixed upon it, the fact came to him at last—the belief that it was indeed the sun lighting up the glittering peaks of the vast range—and he started to his feet with a cry of exultation.“Why, it is to-morrow morning!” he shouted. “Ah! I can help him now.”But for a time he could only wait on patiently, and watch the bright glow extending, and stealing slowly downward, in a way which suggested that it would be hours before the spot where he stood would be lit up by the full light of day; and, hardly daring to move, he listened, and twice over gave one of his long, piercing whistles, which were echoed and re-echoed in a way which made him shudder and hesitate to raise the strange sounds again.“It’s o’ no use,” he said. “He’s gone down there, and he’s dead—he’s dead; and I shall never see him again.—Yah! yer great snivelling idjit!” he cried the next moment, in his rage against himself. “The old woman was right when I ’listed. She said I wasn’t fit for a sojer—no good for nothing but to stop at home, carry back the washing, and turn the mangle. I’m ashamed o’ myself. My word, though, the fog’s not so thick, but ain’t it cold! If I don’t do something I shall freeze hard, and not be able to help him when it gets light.”It was a fact; for, consequent upon standing still so long, a peculiar numbing sensation began to attack his extremities, and it was none too soon when he felt his way down the slope for a few yards, and then turned to climb again. A very short time longer, and he would have been unable to stir; as it was, he could hardly climb back to the place from which he started. Cut he strove hard to restore the failing circulation, keeping his body in active motion, till, by slow degrees, his natural activity returned, and, forgetting the weariness produced by such a night of exertion, he felt ready to do anything towards finding and rescuing his officer.“There’s no mistake about it,” he muttered, “standing still up in these parts means hands and feet freezing hard. It’s wonderful, though, how these sheepskins keep out the cold. I ought to feel worse than I do, though, at a time like this; but it’s because I won’t believe the gov’nor’s dead. It ain’t possible, like, for it’s so much more sudden than being caught by a bullet through the heart. Oh he ain’t dead—he can’t be—I won’t believe it. Tumbled down into the soft snow somewhere, and on’y wants me to go down and help him out.”He took another turn up and down to keep up the circulation, and by this time he could move about freely, and without having to climb the ascent in dread of going too far and reaching the perilous edge, with its treachery of snow.“Getting lighter fast,” he said, “and I shall be able to get to work soon. And that’s it. I’ve got to think o’ that. There’s no help to be got. You’ve got to find all the help in yourself, old man. My! ain’t it beautiful how the light’s coming! It’s just as if the angels was pouring glory on the tops o’ the mountains, and it’s running more and more down the sides, till these great holes and hollows are full, and it’s day once more.”As the golden rays of sunshine came lower, the mountain in front grew dazzling in its beauty. Minute by minute the glaciers which combed its sides leaped into sight, shining with dazzling beauty, like rivers and falls of golden water; the dark rifts and chasms became purple, lightening into vivid blue; and the reflected light kept on flashing upon hollows and points, till, saving the lower portions, the vast mass of tumbled-together ice and snow shone with a glory that filled the ignorant common lad with a strange feeling of awe.This passed off directly, however; and, as the darkness on a level with where he stood grew more and more transparent, Gedge’s active mind was searching everything in the most practical way, in connection with the task he had in hand. He could see now dimly that the snow to right and left of him curved over the vast gulf in front—vast in length only; for, thirty or forty yards from where he stood, there was the huge blank face of the mountain going downward, as one vast perpendicular wall of grey rock, streaked with snow where there were ledges for it to cling. In fact, the snow from above hung hen; and there as if ready to fall into the black gulf, still full of darkness, and whose depths could not be plumbed until the light displaced the gloom, and a safe coign of vantage could be found from which the adventurer could look down.In fact, the young soldier was on the edge of a stupendousbergschrund, as the phenomenon is termed by Swiss climbers—a deep chasm formed by the ice and snow shrinking or falling away from the side of a mountain, where the latter is too steep for it to cling. And then, after a little examination to right and left, Gedge, with beating heart, found the place where Bracy had stepped forward and instantaneously fallen. There was no doubt about it, for the searcher found the two spots where he himself had so nearly gone down, the snow showing great irregular patches, bitten off, as it were, leaving sharp, rugged, perpendicular edges; while where Bracy had fallen there were two footprints and a deep furrow, evidently formed by the rifle, to which he had clung, the furrow growing deeper as it neared the edge of the snow, through which it had been dragged.Gedge’s face flushed with excitement as he grasped all this and proved its truth, for, between where he stood and the footprints made through the crust of snow, there were his own marks, those made by his bayonet, and others where he had flung himself down, for the snow here was far softer than upon the slope.In spite of the darkness still clinging to the depths, Gedge began at once searching for a safe place—one where he could crawl to the edge of the gulf, get his face over, and look down; but anywhere near where Bracy had gone down this was in vain, for the snow curved over like some huge volute of glittering whiteness, and several times over, when he ventured, it was to feel that his weight was sufficient to make the snow yield, sending him back with a shudder.Baffled again and again, he looked to right and left, in search of some slope by whose means he could descend into the gulf; but he looked in vain—everywhere the snow hung over, and as the light increased he saw that the curve was far more than he had imagined.“Oh, if I only knowed what to do!” he groaned. “I can’t seem to help him; and I can’t leave him to go for help. I must get down somehow; but I dursen’t jump.”This last thought had hardly crossed his brain when a feeling of wild excitement rushed through him; for faintly heard from far away below, and to his left, there came the shrill chirruping note of an officer’s whistle, and Gedge snatched at the spike of his helmet, plucked it off, and waved it frantically in the air.“Hoorray!” he yelled. “Hoorray! and I don’t care if any one hears me. Hoorray! He ain’t dead a bit; he’s down somewhere in the soft snow, and hoorray! I’m going to get him out.”At that moment the whistle chirruped faint and shrill again, the note being repeated from the vast wall.“He’s this side somewhere,” cried Gedge. “Out o’ sight under this curl-over o’ snow. There he goes again, and I haven’t answered. Of all the—”The cramming of his fingers into his mouth checked the speech, and, blowing with all his might, the young soldier sent forth a shrill imitation of the officer’s whistle, to echo from the mountain face; and then, unmistakably, and no echo, came another faint, shrill whistle from far to the left.“All right, Mr Bracy, sir! Hoorray! and good luck to you! I’m a-coming.”He whistled again, and went off in the direction from which his summons seemed to have come, and again he was answered, and again and again, till, quite a quarter of a mile along the edge, the young soldier stopped, for the whistles had sounded nearer and nearer, till he felt convinced that he had reached a spot on the snow hanging just above his summoner’s head.As he stopped he whistled again, and the answer sounded shrill and near.“Below there! Ahoy!” he yelled, and mingling with the echoes came his name, faintly heard, but in the familiar tones.“Oh dear! What’s a chap to do?” panted Gedge. “I want to holler and shout, and dance a ’ornpipe. Here, I feel as if I’m goin’ as mad as a hatter. Hi! Oh, Mr Bracy—sir—ain’t—half—dead—are—yer?” he shouted, as if he had punctuated his words with full stops.“Not—much—hurt,” came up distinctly.“Then here goes!” muttered Gedge. “I must try and get a look at yer, to see where yer are.”The speaker threw himself on his faces once more, and began to crawl towards the edge of the cornice, to look down into the fairly-light chasm; but shrank back only just in time to save himself from going down with a great patch of snow; and he listened, shudderingly, to the dull rush it made, followed by a heavy pat and a series of whispering echoes. Then faintly heard came the words: “Keep back, or you’ll send an avalanche down.”“What’s a haverlarnsh?” muttered Gedge. Then aloud, “All right, sir. Can yer get out?”“I don’t know yet. I must rest a bit. Don’t talk, or you’ll be sending the snow down.”“All right, sir; but can’t yer tell me what to do?”“You can do nothing,” came slowly back in distinct tones. “The snow curves over my head, and there is a tremendous depth. Keep still where you are, and don’t come near.”“Oh, I can keep still now,” said Gedge coolly. “It’s like being another man to know that’s he’s all alive. Oh! can’t be very much hurt, or he wouldn’t call like he does. Poor chap! But what’s he going to do? Climb up the side somehow? Well, I s’pose I must obey orders; but I should like to be doing something to help him out.”Gedge was of that type which cannot remain quiet; and, feeling irritated now by his enforced state of helplessness, he spent the time in looking down and around him for signs of danger.The sun was now above the horizon, lighting up the diversified scene at the foot of the mountain, and away along the valleys spreading to right and left; but for some time he could make out nothing save a few specks in the far distance, which might have been men, or a flock of some creatures pasturing on the green valley-side, miles beyond the termination of the snow-slope up which they had climbed. He made out, too, the continuation of the stony track leading to the head of the valley, and along which the party of tribes-men had been seen to pass; but there was apparently nothing there, and Gedge drew a breath full of relief as he felt how safe they were, and beyond the reach of the enemy.Then, turning to the gulf again, he went as near as he dared to the edge, and stood listening to a dull sound, which was frequently repeated, and was followed by a low rushing noise, which kept gathering in force till it was like a heavy rush, and then dying away.“What’s he doing?” muttered Gedge. “Sounds like digging. That’s it; he’s been buried alive; and he’s hard at work trying to dig himself out of the snow with his bayonet stuck at the end of his rifle. Well, good luck to him. Wonder where he’ll come up first.”Gedge watched the cornice-like edge of the snowfield as the sounds as of some one feebly digging went on; but he could gain no further hint of what was going on, and at last his excitement proved too much for him, and he once more began to creep towards the edge of the snow, getting so far without accident this time that he could form an idea of what must be the depth from seeing far down the grey face of the wall of rock, certainly four or five hundred feet, but no bottom.“He couldn’t have fallen all that way,” he said to himself. “It must go down with a slope on this side.”A sharp crack warned him that he was in danger, and he forced himself back on to firm snow, receiving another warning of the peril to which he had exposed himself, for a portion many feet square went down with a hissing rush, to which he stood listening till all was still once more.Suddenly he jumped back farther, for from somewhere higher up there was a heavy report as of a cannon, followed by a loud echoing roar, and, gazing upward over a shoulder of the mountain, he had a good view of what seemed to be a waterfall plunging over a rock, to disappear afterwards behind a buttress-like mass of rock and ice. This was followed by another roar, and another, before all was still again.“Must be ice and snow,” he said to himself; “can’t be water.”Gedge was right; for he had been gazing up at an ice-fall, whose drops were blocks and masses of ice diminished into dust by the great distance, and probably being formed of thousands of tons.“Bad to have been climbing up there,” he muttered, and he shrank a little farther away from the edge of the great chasm. “It’s precious horrid being all among this ice and snow. It sets me thinking, as it always does when I’ve nothing to do.—If I could only do something to help him, instead of standing here.—Oh, I say,” he cried wildly, “look at that!”He had been listening to the regular dull dig, dig, dig, going on below the cornice, and to the faint rushing sound, as of snow falling, thinking deeply of his own helplessness the while, wondering too, for the twentieth time, where Bracy would appear, when, to his intense astonishment, he saw a bayonet dart through the snow into daylight about twenty feet back from the edge of the great gulf.The blade disappeared again directly, and reappeared rapidly two or three times as he ran towards the spot, and then hesitated, for it was dangerous toapproach the hole growing in the snow, the direction of the thrusts made being various, and the risk was that the weapon might be darted into the looker-on. Gedge stood then as near as he dared go, watching the progress made by the miner, and seeing the hole rapidly increase in size as the surface crumbled in.Then all at once Gedge’s heart seemed to leap towards his mouth, for there was a sudden eddy of the loose snow, as if some one were struggling, the bayonet, followed by the rifle, was thrust out into daylight, held by a pair of hands which sought to force it crosswise over the mouth of the hole, and the next instant the watcher saw why. For the caked snow from the opening to the edge of the gulf, and for many yards on either side, was slowly sinking; while, starting from the hole in two opposite directions, and keeping parallel with the edge; of the cornice, a couple of cracks appeared, looking like dark jagged lines.It was a matter of but a few moments. Gedge had had his lessons regarding the curving-over snow, and knew the danger, which gave him the apt promptitude necessary for action in the terrible peril.Dropping his own rifle on the ice, he sprang forward, stooped, and, quick as a flash, caught hold of the barrel of the rifle lying on the surface just below the hilt of the bayonet. Then throwing himself back with all the force he could command, he literally jerked Bracy out from where he lay buried in the loose snow and drew him several yards rapidly over the smooth surface. The long lines were opening out and gaping the while, and he had hardly drawn his officer clear before there was a soft, dull report, and a rush, tons of the cornice having been undermined where it hung to the edge of the icefield, and now went downward with a hissing sound, which was followed by a dull roar.“Ah-h-h!” groaned Gedge, and he dropped down upon his knees beside the prostrate snowy figure, jerked his hands towards his face, and then fell over sidewise, to lie motionless with his eyes fast closed.When he opened them again it was to see Bracy kneeling by his side and bending over him, the young officer’s countenance looking blue and swollen, while his voice when he spoke sounded husky and faint.“Are you better now?” he said.“Better!” replied Gedge hoarsely as he stared confusedly at the speaker. “Ain’t been ill agen, have I! Here, what yer been doing to make my head ache like this here? I—I—I d’ know. Something’s buzzing, and my head’s going round. Some one’s been giving me—Oh, Mr Bracy, sir! I remember now. Do tell me, sir; are yer all right?”“Yes, nearly,” replied the young officer, with a weary smile. “Twisted my ankle badly, and I’m faint and sick. I can’t talk.”“Course not, sir; but you’re all right again now. You want something to eat. I say, sir, did you finish your rations?”“No; they’re here in my haversack. You can take a part if you want some.”“Me, sir? I’ve got plenty. Ain’t had nothing since when we had our feed together. I ain’t touched nothing.”“Eat, then; you must want food.”“Yes, I am a bit peckish, sir, I s’pose; but I can’t eat ’less you do.”Bracy smiled faintly, and began to open his snow-covered haversack, taking from it a piece of hard cake, which he began to eat very slowly, looking hard and strange of manner, a fact which did not escape Gedge’s eyes; but the latter said nothing, opened his canvas bag with trembling hands, and began to eat in a hurried, excited way, but soon left off.“Don’t feel like eating no more, sir,” he said huskily. “Can’t for thinking about how you got on. Don’t say nothing till you feel well enough, sir. I can see that you’re reg’lar upset. Ain’t got froze, have you—hands or feet?”“No, no,” said Bracy slowly, speaking like one suffering from some terrible shock. “I did not feel the cold so much. There, I am coming round, my lad, and I can’t quite grasp yet that I am sitting here alive in the sunshine. I’m stunned. It is as if I were still in that horrible dream-like time of being face to face with death. Ha! how good it is to feel the sun once more!”“Yes, sir; capital, sir,” said Gedge more cheerfully. “Quite puzzling to think its all ice and snow about us. Shines up quite warm; ’most as warm as it shines down.”“Ha!” sighed Bracy; “it sends life into me again.”He closed his eyes, and seemed to be drinking in the warm glow, which was increasing fast, giving colour to the magnificent view around. But after a few minutes, during which Gedge sat munching slowly and gazing anxiously in the strangely swollen and discoloured face, the eyes were reopened, to meet those of Gedge, who pretended to be looking another way.The sun’s warmth was working wonders, and shortly after Bracy’s voice sounded stronger as he said quietly:“It would have been hard if I had been carried back by the snow at the last, Gedge.”“Hard, sir? Horrid.”“It turned you sick afterwards—the narrow escape I had.”“Dreadful, sir. I was as bad as a gal. I’m a poor sort o’ thing sometimes, sir. But don’t you talk till you feel all right, sir.”“I am beginning to feel as if talking will do me good and spur me back into being more myself.”“Think so, sir? Well, you know best, sir.”“I think so,” said Bracy quietly; “but I shall not be right till I have had a few hours’ sleep.”“Look here, then, sir; you lie down in the sun here on myposhtin. I’ll keep watch.”“No! no! Not till night. There, I am getting my strength back. I was completely stunned, Gedge, and I have been acting like a man walking in his sleep.”Gedge kept glancing at his officer furtively, and there was an anxious look in his eyes as he said to himself:“He’s like a fellow going to have a touch of fever. Bit wandering-like, poor chap! I know what’s wrong. I’ll ask him.”He did not ask at once, though, for he saw that Bracy was eating the piece of cake with better appetite, breaking off scraps more frequently; while the food, simple as it was, seemed to have a wonderfully reviving effect, and he turned at last to his companion.“You are not eating, my lad,” he said, smiling faintly. “Come, you know what you have said to me.”“Oh, I’m all right again now, sir; I’m only keeping time with you. There. Dry bread-cake ain’t bad, sir, up here in the mountains, when you’re hungry. Hurt your head a bit—didn’t you, sir?”“No, no,” said Bracy more firmly. “My right ankle; that is all. How horribly sudden it was!”“Awful, sir; but don’t you talk.”“I must now; it does me good, horrible as it all was; but, as I tell you, I was stunned mentally and bodily, to a great extent. I must have dropped a great distance into the soft snow upon a slope, and I was a long time before I could get rid of the feeling of being suffocated. I was quite buried, I suppose; but at last, in a misty way, I seemed to be breathing the cold air in great draughts as I lay on the snow, holding fast to my rifle, which somehow seemed to be the one hope I had of getting back to you.”“You did a lot of good with it, sir.”“Did I?”“Course you did, sir. Digging through the snow.”“Oh yes, I remember now,” said Bracy, with a sigh. “Yes, I remember having some idea that the snow hung above me like some enormous wave curling right over before it broke, and then becoming frozen hard. Then I remember feeling that I was like one of the rabbits in the sandhills at home, burrowing away to make a hole to get to the surface, and as fast as I got the sand down from above me I kept on kicking it out with my feet, and it slid away far below with a dull, hissing sound.”“Yes, sir, I heard it; but that was this morning. How did you get on in the night, after you began to breathe again? You couldn’t ha’ been buried long, or you’d ha’ been quite smothered.”“Of course,” said Bracy rather vacantly—“in the night?”“Yes; didn’t you hear me hollering?”“No.”“When you were gone all in a moment I thought you’d slipped and gone sliding down like them chaps do the tobogganing, sir.”“You did call to me, then?”“Call, sir? I expect that made me so hoarse this morning.”“I did not hear you till I whistled and you answered, not long ago.”“Why, I whistled too, sir, lots o’ times, and nigh went mad with thinking about you.”“Thank you, Gedge,” said Bracy quietly, and he held out his hand and gripped his companion’s warmly. “I give you a great deal of trouble.”“Trouble, sir? Hark at you! That ain’t trouble. But after you got out of the snow?”“After I got out of the snow?”“Yus, sir; you was there all night.”“Was I? Yes, I suppose so. I must have been. But I don’t know much. It was all darkness and snow, and—oh yes, I remember now! I did not dare to move much, because whenever I did stir I began to glide down as if I were going on for ever.”“But don’t you remember, sir, any more than that?”“No,” said Bracy, speaking with greater animation now. “As I told you, I must have been stunned by my terrible fall, and that saved me from a time of agony that would have driven me mad. As soon as it was light I must have begun moving in a mechanical way to try and escape from that terrible death-trap: but all that has been dream-like, and—and I feel as if I were still in a kind of nightmare. I am quite faint, too, and giddy with pain. Yes, I must lie down here in the sunshine for a bit. Don’t let me sleep long if I drop off.”“No, sir; I won’t, sir,” replied Gedge, as Bracy sank to his elbow and then subsided with a restful sigh, lying prone upon the snow.“He’s fainted! No, he ain’t; he’s going right off to sleep. Not let him sleep long? Yes, I will; I must, poor chap! It’s knocked half the sense out of him, just when he was done up, too. Not sleep? Why, that’s the doctor as’ll pull him round. All right, sir; you’re going to have my sheepskin too, and you ain’t going to be called till the sun’s going down, and after that we shall see.”Ten minutes later Bracy was sleeping, carefully wrapped in Gedge’sposhtin, while the latter was eating heartily of the remains of his rations.“And he might ha’ been dead, and me left alone!” said Gedge, speaking to himself. “My! how soon things change! Shall I have a bit more, or shan’t I! Yes; I can’t put my greatcoat on outside, so I must put some extra lining in.”

Gedge knelt there gazing upward, unable to grasp the truth of that which he saw; for all around him seemed blacker than ever; but as he looked there was another glowing speck high up in the distance, and then another and another started into sight, while the first he had seen went on increasing in brightness; and, as he still kept his eyes fixed upon it, the fact came to him at last—the belief that it was indeed the sun lighting up the glittering peaks of the vast range—and he started to his feet with a cry of exultation.

“Why, it is to-morrow morning!” he shouted. “Ah! I can help him now.”

But for a time he could only wait on patiently, and watch the bright glow extending, and stealing slowly downward, in a way which suggested that it would be hours before the spot where he stood would be lit up by the full light of day; and, hardly daring to move, he listened, and twice over gave one of his long, piercing whistles, which were echoed and re-echoed in a way which made him shudder and hesitate to raise the strange sounds again.

“It’s o’ no use,” he said. “He’s gone down there, and he’s dead—he’s dead; and I shall never see him again.—Yah! yer great snivelling idjit!” he cried the next moment, in his rage against himself. “The old woman was right when I ’listed. She said I wasn’t fit for a sojer—no good for nothing but to stop at home, carry back the washing, and turn the mangle. I’m ashamed o’ myself. My word, though, the fog’s not so thick, but ain’t it cold! If I don’t do something I shall freeze hard, and not be able to help him when it gets light.”

It was a fact; for, consequent upon standing still so long, a peculiar numbing sensation began to attack his extremities, and it was none too soon when he felt his way down the slope for a few yards, and then turned to climb again. A very short time longer, and he would have been unable to stir; as it was, he could hardly climb back to the place from which he started. Cut he strove hard to restore the failing circulation, keeping his body in active motion, till, by slow degrees, his natural activity returned, and, forgetting the weariness produced by such a night of exertion, he felt ready to do anything towards finding and rescuing his officer.

“There’s no mistake about it,” he muttered, “standing still up in these parts means hands and feet freezing hard. It’s wonderful, though, how these sheepskins keep out the cold. I ought to feel worse than I do, though, at a time like this; but it’s because I won’t believe the gov’nor’s dead. It ain’t possible, like, for it’s so much more sudden than being caught by a bullet through the heart. Oh he ain’t dead—he can’t be—I won’t believe it. Tumbled down into the soft snow somewhere, and on’y wants me to go down and help him out.”

He took another turn up and down to keep up the circulation, and by this time he could move about freely, and without having to climb the ascent in dread of going too far and reaching the perilous edge, with its treachery of snow.

“Getting lighter fast,” he said, “and I shall be able to get to work soon. And that’s it. I’ve got to think o’ that. There’s no help to be got. You’ve got to find all the help in yourself, old man. My! ain’t it beautiful how the light’s coming! It’s just as if the angels was pouring glory on the tops o’ the mountains, and it’s running more and more down the sides, till these great holes and hollows are full, and it’s day once more.”

As the golden rays of sunshine came lower, the mountain in front grew dazzling in its beauty. Minute by minute the glaciers which combed its sides leaped into sight, shining with dazzling beauty, like rivers and falls of golden water; the dark rifts and chasms became purple, lightening into vivid blue; and the reflected light kept on flashing upon hollows and points, till, saving the lower portions, the vast mass of tumbled-together ice and snow shone with a glory that filled the ignorant common lad with a strange feeling of awe.

This passed off directly, however; and, as the darkness on a level with where he stood grew more and more transparent, Gedge’s active mind was searching everything in the most practical way, in connection with the task he had in hand. He could see now dimly that the snow to right and left of him curved over the vast gulf in front—vast in length only; for, thirty or forty yards from where he stood, there was the huge blank face of the mountain going downward, as one vast perpendicular wall of grey rock, streaked with snow where there were ledges for it to cling. In fact, the snow from above hung hen; and there as if ready to fall into the black gulf, still full of darkness, and whose depths could not be plumbed until the light displaced the gloom, and a safe coign of vantage could be found from which the adventurer could look down.

In fact, the young soldier was on the edge of a stupendousbergschrund, as the phenomenon is termed by Swiss climbers—a deep chasm formed by the ice and snow shrinking or falling away from the side of a mountain, where the latter is too steep for it to cling. And then, after a little examination to right and left, Gedge, with beating heart, found the place where Bracy had stepped forward and instantaneously fallen. There was no doubt about it, for the searcher found the two spots where he himself had so nearly gone down, the snow showing great irregular patches, bitten off, as it were, leaving sharp, rugged, perpendicular edges; while where Bracy had fallen there were two footprints and a deep furrow, evidently formed by the rifle, to which he had clung, the furrow growing deeper as it neared the edge of the snow, through which it had been dragged.

Gedge’s face flushed with excitement as he grasped all this and proved its truth, for, between where he stood and the footprints made through the crust of snow, there were his own marks, those made by his bayonet, and others where he had flung himself down, for the snow here was far softer than upon the slope.

In spite of the darkness still clinging to the depths, Gedge began at once searching for a safe place—one where he could crawl to the edge of the gulf, get his face over, and look down; but anywhere near where Bracy had gone down this was in vain, for the snow curved over like some huge volute of glittering whiteness, and several times over, when he ventured, it was to feel that his weight was sufficient to make the snow yield, sending him back with a shudder.

Baffled again and again, he looked to right and left, in search of some slope by whose means he could descend into the gulf; but he looked in vain—everywhere the snow hung over, and as the light increased he saw that the curve was far more than he had imagined.

“Oh, if I only knowed what to do!” he groaned. “I can’t seem to help him; and I can’t leave him to go for help. I must get down somehow; but I dursen’t jump.”

This last thought had hardly crossed his brain when a feeling of wild excitement rushed through him; for faintly heard from far away below, and to his left, there came the shrill chirruping note of an officer’s whistle, and Gedge snatched at the spike of his helmet, plucked it off, and waved it frantically in the air.

“Hoorray!” he yelled. “Hoorray! and I don’t care if any one hears me. Hoorray! He ain’t dead a bit; he’s down somewhere in the soft snow, and hoorray! I’m going to get him out.”

At that moment the whistle chirruped faint and shrill again, the note being repeated from the vast wall.

“He’s this side somewhere,” cried Gedge. “Out o’ sight under this curl-over o’ snow. There he goes again, and I haven’t answered. Of all the—”

The cramming of his fingers into his mouth checked the speech, and, blowing with all his might, the young soldier sent forth a shrill imitation of the officer’s whistle, to echo from the mountain face; and then, unmistakably, and no echo, came another faint, shrill whistle from far to the left.

“All right, Mr Bracy, sir! Hoorray! and good luck to you! I’m a-coming.”

He whistled again, and went off in the direction from which his summons seemed to have come, and again he was answered, and again and again, till, quite a quarter of a mile along the edge, the young soldier stopped, for the whistles had sounded nearer and nearer, till he felt convinced that he had reached a spot on the snow hanging just above his summoner’s head.

As he stopped he whistled again, and the answer sounded shrill and near.

“Below there! Ahoy!” he yelled, and mingling with the echoes came his name, faintly heard, but in the familiar tones.

“Oh dear! What’s a chap to do?” panted Gedge. “I want to holler and shout, and dance a ’ornpipe. Here, I feel as if I’m goin’ as mad as a hatter. Hi! Oh, Mr Bracy—sir—ain’t—half—dead—are—yer?” he shouted, as if he had punctuated his words with full stops.

“Not—much—hurt,” came up distinctly.

“Then here goes!” muttered Gedge. “I must try and get a look at yer, to see where yer are.”

The speaker threw himself on his faces once more, and began to crawl towards the edge of the cornice, to look down into the fairly-light chasm; but shrank back only just in time to save himself from going down with a great patch of snow; and he listened, shudderingly, to the dull rush it made, followed by a heavy pat and a series of whispering echoes. Then faintly heard came the words: “Keep back, or you’ll send an avalanche down.”

“What’s a haverlarnsh?” muttered Gedge. Then aloud, “All right, sir. Can yer get out?”

“I don’t know yet. I must rest a bit. Don’t talk, or you’ll be sending the snow down.”

“All right, sir; but can’t yer tell me what to do?”

“You can do nothing,” came slowly back in distinct tones. “The snow curves over my head, and there is a tremendous depth. Keep still where you are, and don’t come near.”

“Oh, I can keep still now,” said Gedge coolly. “It’s like being another man to know that’s he’s all alive. Oh! can’t be very much hurt, or he wouldn’t call like he does. Poor chap! But what’s he going to do? Climb up the side somehow? Well, I s’pose I must obey orders; but I should like to be doing something to help him out.”

Gedge was of that type which cannot remain quiet; and, feeling irritated now by his enforced state of helplessness, he spent the time in looking down and around him for signs of danger.

The sun was now above the horizon, lighting up the diversified scene at the foot of the mountain, and away along the valleys spreading to right and left; but for some time he could make out nothing save a few specks in the far distance, which might have been men, or a flock of some creatures pasturing on the green valley-side, miles beyond the termination of the snow-slope up which they had climbed. He made out, too, the continuation of the stony track leading to the head of the valley, and along which the party of tribes-men had been seen to pass; but there was apparently nothing there, and Gedge drew a breath full of relief as he felt how safe they were, and beyond the reach of the enemy.

Then, turning to the gulf again, he went as near as he dared to the edge, and stood listening to a dull sound, which was frequently repeated, and was followed by a low rushing noise, which kept gathering in force till it was like a heavy rush, and then dying away.

“What’s he doing?” muttered Gedge. “Sounds like digging. That’s it; he’s been buried alive; and he’s hard at work trying to dig himself out of the snow with his bayonet stuck at the end of his rifle. Well, good luck to him. Wonder where he’ll come up first.”

Gedge watched the cornice-like edge of the snowfield as the sounds as of some one feebly digging went on; but he could gain no further hint of what was going on, and at last his excitement proved too much for him, and he once more began to creep towards the edge of the snow, getting so far without accident this time that he could form an idea of what must be the depth from seeing far down the grey face of the wall of rock, certainly four or five hundred feet, but no bottom.

“He couldn’t have fallen all that way,” he said to himself. “It must go down with a slope on this side.”

A sharp crack warned him that he was in danger, and he forced himself back on to firm snow, receiving another warning of the peril to which he had exposed himself, for a portion many feet square went down with a hissing rush, to which he stood listening till all was still once more.

Suddenly he jumped back farther, for from somewhere higher up there was a heavy report as of a cannon, followed by a loud echoing roar, and, gazing upward over a shoulder of the mountain, he had a good view of what seemed to be a waterfall plunging over a rock, to disappear afterwards behind a buttress-like mass of rock and ice. This was followed by another roar, and another, before all was still again.

“Must be ice and snow,” he said to himself; “can’t be water.”

Gedge was right; for he had been gazing up at an ice-fall, whose drops were blocks and masses of ice diminished into dust by the great distance, and probably being formed of thousands of tons.

“Bad to have been climbing up there,” he muttered, and he shrank a little farther away from the edge of the great chasm. “It’s precious horrid being all among this ice and snow. It sets me thinking, as it always does when I’ve nothing to do.—If I could only do something to help him, instead of standing here.—Oh, I say,” he cried wildly, “look at that!”

He had been listening to the regular dull dig, dig, dig, going on below the cornice, and to the faint rushing sound, as of snow falling, thinking deeply of his own helplessness the while, wondering too, for the twentieth time, where Bracy would appear, when, to his intense astonishment, he saw a bayonet dart through the snow into daylight about twenty feet back from the edge of the great gulf.

The blade disappeared again directly, and reappeared rapidly two or three times as he ran towards the spot, and then hesitated, for it was dangerous toapproach the hole growing in the snow, the direction of the thrusts made being various, and the risk was that the weapon might be darted into the looker-on. Gedge stood then as near as he dared go, watching the progress made by the miner, and seeing the hole rapidly increase in size as the surface crumbled in.

Then all at once Gedge’s heart seemed to leap towards his mouth, for there was a sudden eddy of the loose snow, as if some one were struggling, the bayonet, followed by the rifle, was thrust out into daylight, held by a pair of hands which sought to force it crosswise over the mouth of the hole, and the next instant the watcher saw why. For the caked snow from the opening to the edge of the gulf, and for many yards on either side, was slowly sinking; while, starting from the hole in two opposite directions, and keeping parallel with the edge; of the cornice, a couple of cracks appeared, looking like dark jagged lines.

It was a matter of but a few moments. Gedge had had his lessons regarding the curving-over snow, and knew the danger, which gave him the apt promptitude necessary for action in the terrible peril.

Dropping his own rifle on the ice, he sprang forward, stooped, and, quick as a flash, caught hold of the barrel of the rifle lying on the surface just below the hilt of the bayonet. Then throwing himself back with all the force he could command, he literally jerked Bracy out from where he lay buried in the loose snow and drew him several yards rapidly over the smooth surface. The long lines were opening out and gaping the while, and he had hardly drawn his officer clear before there was a soft, dull report, and a rush, tons of the cornice having been undermined where it hung to the edge of the icefield, and now went downward with a hissing sound, which was followed by a dull roar.

“Ah-h-h!” groaned Gedge, and he dropped down upon his knees beside the prostrate snowy figure, jerked his hands towards his face, and then fell over sidewise, to lie motionless with his eyes fast closed.

When he opened them again it was to see Bracy kneeling by his side and bending over him, the young officer’s countenance looking blue and swollen, while his voice when he spoke sounded husky and faint.

“Are you better now?” he said.

“Better!” replied Gedge hoarsely as he stared confusedly at the speaker. “Ain’t been ill agen, have I! Here, what yer been doing to make my head ache like this here? I—I—I d’ know. Something’s buzzing, and my head’s going round. Some one’s been giving me—Oh, Mr Bracy, sir! I remember now. Do tell me, sir; are yer all right?”

“Yes, nearly,” replied the young officer, with a weary smile. “Twisted my ankle badly, and I’m faint and sick. I can’t talk.”

“Course not, sir; but you’re all right again now. You want something to eat. I say, sir, did you finish your rations?”

“No; they’re here in my haversack. You can take a part if you want some.”

“Me, sir? I’ve got plenty. Ain’t had nothing since when we had our feed together. I ain’t touched nothing.”

“Eat, then; you must want food.”

“Yes, I am a bit peckish, sir, I s’pose; but I can’t eat ’less you do.”

Bracy smiled faintly, and began to open his snow-covered haversack, taking from it a piece of hard cake, which he began to eat very slowly, looking hard and strange of manner, a fact which did not escape Gedge’s eyes; but the latter said nothing, opened his canvas bag with trembling hands, and began to eat in a hurried, excited way, but soon left off.

“Don’t feel like eating no more, sir,” he said huskily. “Can’t for thinking about how you got on. Don’t say nothing till you feel well enough, sir. I can see that you’re reg’lar upset. Ain’t got froze, have you—hands or feet?”

“No, no,” said Bracy slowly, speaking like one suffering from some terrible shock. “I did not feel the cold so much. There, I am coming round, my lad, and I can’t quite grasp yet that I am sitting here alive in the sunshine. I’m stunned. It is as if I were still in that horrible dream-like time of being face to face with death. Ha! how good it is to feel the sun once more!”

“Yes, sir; capital, sir,” said Gedge more cheerfully. “Quite puzzling to think its all ice and snow about us. Shines up quite warm; ’most as warm as it shines down.”

“Ha!” sighed Bracy; “it sends life into me again.”

He closed his eyes, and seemed to be drinking in the warm glow, which was increasing fast, giving colour to the magnificent view around. But after a few minutes, during which Gedge sat munching slowly and gazing anxiously in the strangely swollen and discoloured face, the eyes were reopened, to meet those of Gedge, who pretended to be looking another way.

The sun’s warmth was working wonders, and shortly after Bracy’s voice sounded stronger as he said quietly:

“It would have been hard if I had been carried back by the snow at the last, Gedge.”

“Hard, sir? Horrid.”

“It turned you sick afterwards—the narrow escape I had.”

“Dreadful, sir. I was as bad as a gal. I’m a poor sort o’ thing sometimes, sir. But don’t you talk till you feel all right, sir.”

“I am beginning to feel as if talking will do me good and spur me back into being more myself.”

“Think so, sir? Well, you know best, sir.”

“I think so,” said Bracy quietly; “but I shall not be right till I have had a few hours’ sleep.”

“Look here, then, sir; you lie down in the sun here on myposhtin. I’ll keep watch.”

“No! no! Not till night. There, I am getting my strength back. I was completely stunned, Gedge, and I have been acting like a man walking in his sleep.”

Gedge kept glancing at his officer furtively, and there was an anxious look in his eyes as he said to himself:

“He’s like a fellow going to have a touch of fever. Bit wandering-like, poor chap! I know what’s wrong. I’ll ask him.”

He did not ask at once, though, for he saw that Bracy was eating the piece of cake with better appetite, breaking off scraps more frequently; while the food, simple as it was, seemed to have a wonderfully reviving effect, and he turned at last to his companion.

“You are not eating, my lad,” he said, smiling faintly. “Come, you know what you have said to me.”

“Oh, I’m all right again now, sir; I’m only keeping time with you. There. Dry bread-cake ain’t bad, sir, up here in the mountains, when you’re hungry. Hurt your head a bit—didn’t you, sir?”

“No, no,” said Bracy more firmly. “My right ankle; that is all. How horribly sudden it was!”

“Awful, sir; but don’t you talk.”

“I must now; it does me good, horrible as it all was; but, as I tell you, I was stunned mentally and bodily, to a great extent. I must have dropped a great distance into the soft snow upon a slope, and I was a long time before I could get rid of the feeling of being suffocated. I was quite buried, I suppose; but at last, in a misty way, I seemed to be breathing the cold air in great draughts as I lay on the snow, holding fast to my rifle, which somehow seemed to be the one hope I had of getting back to you.”

“You did a lot of good with it, sir.”

“Did I?”

“Course you did, sir. Digging through the snow.”

“Oh yes, I remember now,” said Bracy, with a sigh. “Yes, I remember having some idea that the snow hung above me like some enormous wave curling right over before it broke, and then becoming frozen hard. Then I remember feeling that I was like one of the rabbits in the sandhills at home, burrowing away to make a hole to get to the surface, and as fast as I got the sand down from above me I kept on kicking it out with my feet, and it slid away far below with a dull, hissing sound.”

“Yes, sir, I heard it; but that was this morning. How did you get on in the night, after you began to breathe again? You couldn’t ha’ been buried long, or you’d ha’ been quite smothered.”

“Of course,” said Bracy rather vacantly—“in the night?”

“Yes; didn’t you hear me hollering?”

“No.”

“When you were gone all in a moment I thought you’d slipped and gone sliding down like them chaps do the tobogganing, sir.”

“You did call to me, then?”

“Call, sir? I expect that made me so hoarse this morning.”

“I did not hear you till I whistled and you answered, not long ago.”

“Why, I whistled too, sir, lots o’ times, and nigh went mad with thinking about you.”

“Thank you, Gedge,” said Bracy quietly, and he held out his hand and gripped his companion’s warmly. “I give you a great deal of trouble.”

“Trouble, sir? Hark at you! That ain’t trouble. But after you got out of the snow?”

“After I got out of the snow?”

“Yus, sir; you was there all night.”

“Was I? Yes, I suppose so. I must have been. But I don’t know much. It was all darkness and snow, and—oh yes, I remember now! I did not dare to move much, because whenever I did stir I began to glide down as if I were going on for ever.”

“But don’t you remember, sir, any more than that?”

“No,” said Bracy, speaking with greater animation now. “As I told you, I must have been stunned by my terrible fall, and that saved me from a time of agony that would have driven me mad. As soon as it was light I must have begun moving in a mechanical way to try and escape from that terrible death-trap: but all that has been dream-like, and—and I feel as if I were still in a kind of nightmare. I am quite faint, too, and giddy with pain. Yes, I must lie down here in the sunshine for a bit. Don’t let me sleep long if I drop off.”

“No, sir; I won’t, sir,” replied Gedge, as Bracy sank to his elbow and then subsided with a restful sigh, lying prone upon the snow.

“He’s fainted! No, he ain’t; he’s going right off to sleep. Not let him sleep long? Yes, I will; I must, poor chap! It’s knocked half the sense out of him, just when he was done up, too. Not sleep? Why, that’s the doctor as’ll pull him round. All right, sir; you’re going to have my sheepskin too, and you ain’t going to be called till the sun’s going down, and after that we shall see.”

Ten minutes later Bracy was sleeping, carefully wrapped in Gedge’sposhtin, while the latter was eating heartily of the remains of his rations.

“And he might ha’ been dead, and me left alone!” said Gedge, speaking to himself. “My! how soon things change! Shall I have a bit more, or shan’t I! Yes; I can’t put my greatcoat on outside, so I must put some extra lining in.”

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