The American Baron | Page 5

such accident as this. Hastily
yet dextrously the foreign gentleman took one of these coils, and then
binding a blanket around his waist, he passed the rope around this, so
that it would press against the blanket without cutting him. Having
secured this tightly, he gave some further directions to the drivers, and
then prepared to go down.
Hitherto the drivers had acted in sullen submission rather than with
ready acquiescence. They were evidently afraid of another avalanche;
and the frequent glances which they threw at the slope above them
plainly showed that they expected this snow to follow the example of
the other. In spite of themselves an expression of this fear escaped them,
and came to the ears of the foreign gentleman. He turned at once on the
brink of the descent, and burst into a torrent of invective against them.

The ladies could not understand him, but they could perceive that he
was uttering threats, and that the men quailed before him. He did not
waste any time, however. After reducing the men to a state of sulky
submission, he turned once more and began the descent.
As he went down the rope was held by the men, who allowed it to pass
through their hands so as to steady his descent. The task before the
adventurer was one of no common difficulty. The snow was soft, and at
every step he sank in at least to his knees. Frequently he came to
treacherous places, where he sank down above his waist, and was only
able to scramble out with difficulty. But the rope sustained him; and as
his progress was downward, he succeeded in moving with some
rapidity toward his destination. The ladies on the height above sat in
perfect silence, watching the progress of the man who was thus
descending with his life in his hand to seek and to save their lost
companion, and in the intensity of their anxiety forgot utterly about any
danger to themselves, though from time to time there arose the
well-known sound of sliding masses, not so far away but that under
other circumstances of less anxiety it might have filled them with alarm.
But now there was no alarm for themselves.
And now the stranger was far down, and the coil of rope was well-nigh
exhausted. But this had been prepared for, and the drivers fastened this
rope to another coil, and after a time began to let out that one also.
Farther and farther down the descent went on. They saw the stranger
pursuing his way still with unfaltering resolution; and they sent after
him all their hearts and all their prayers. At last he plunged down
almost out of sight, but the next moment he emerged, and then, after a
few leaps, they saw that he had gained the place where lay the ruins of
the shattered avalanche. Over this he walked, sometimes sinking, at
other times running and leaping, until at length he came to the precipice
over which the sled had been flung.
And now the suspense of the ladies became terrible. This was the
critical moment. Already his eyes could look down upon the mystery
that lay beneath that precipice. And what lay revealed there? Did his
eyes encounter a spectacle of horror? Did they gaze down into the

inaccessible depths of some hideous abyss? Did they see those jagged
rocks, those sharp crags, those giant boulders, those roaring billows,
which, in their imaginations, had drawn down their lost companion to
destruction? Such conjectures were too terrible. Their breath failed
them, and their hearts for a time almost ceased to beat as they sat there,
overcome by such dread thoughts as these.
Suddenly a cry of delight escaped Ethel. She was kneeling down beside
Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby, with her eyes staring from her
pallid face, when she saw the stranger turn and look up. He took off his
hat, and waved it two or three times. Then he beckoned to the drivers.
Then he sat down and prepared to let himself over the precipice. This
incident inspired hope. It did more. It gave a moment's confidence, and
the certainty that all was not lost. They looked at each other, and wept
tears of joy. But soon that momentary hope vanished, and uncertainty
returned. After all, what did the stranger's gesture mean? He might
have seen her--but how? He might reach her, but would she be safe
from harm? Could such a thing be hoped for? Would she not, rather, be
all marred and mutilated? Dared they hope for any thing better? They
dared not. And now they sat once more, as sad as before, and their
short-lived gleam of hope faded away.
They saw the stranger go over the precipice.
Then he disappeared.