he ice. Unless you
cross some of the crevasses in the early morning, before the sun has
had time to undo the work accomplished by the night's frost, you run a
great risk. And that is why you must be ready to start from the
_cabane_ at dawn. Moreover, at this time of year, you get the finest
view about six o'clock."

The mention of crevasses was somewhat awesome. "Is it necessary to be
roped when one tries that climb?" she asked.

"If any guide ever tells you that you need not be roped while crossing
ice or climbing rock, turn back at once, _fraeulein_. Wait for another
day, and go with a man who knows his business. That is how the
Alps get a bad name for accidents. Look at me! I have climbed the
Matterhorn forty times, and the Jungfrau times out of count, and never
did I or anyone in my care come to grief. 'Use the rope properly,' is
my motto, and it has never failed me, not even when two out of five of
us were struck senseless by falling stones on the south side of Monte
Rosa."

Helen experienced another thrill. "I very much object to falling
stones," she said.

Stampa threw out his hands in emphatic gesture. "What can one do?" he
cried. "They are always a danger, like the snow cornice and the
_neve_. There is a chimney on the Jungfrau through which stones are
constantly shooting from a height of two thousand feet. You cannot see
them,--they travel too fast for the eye. You hear something sing past
your ears, that is all. Occasionally there is a report like a gunshot,
and then you observe a little cloud of dust rising from a new scar on
a rock. If you are hit--well, there is no dust, because the stone goes
right through. Of course one does not loiter there."

Then, seeing the scared look on her face, he went on. "Ladies should
not go to such places. It is not fit. But for men, yes. There is the
joy of battle. Do not err, _fraeulein_,--the mountains are alive. And
they fight to the death. They can be beaten; but there must be no
mistakes. They are like strong men, the hills. When you strive against
them, strain them to your breast and never relax your grip. Then they
yield slowly, with many a trick and false move that a man must learn
if he would look down over them all and say, 'I am lord here.' Ah me!
Shall I ever again cross the Col du Lion or climb the Great Tower?
But there! I am old, and thrown aside. Boys whom I engaged as porters
would refuse me now as their porter. Better to have died like my
friend, Mic