n a rock cleft, sustained the struggles and
held up the lives of his companions by that precious thread for more
than an hour. Perhaps he might have saved them, but in their desperate
efforts to regain their footing the rope slipped upon a jagged edge of
outcrop and parted as if cut by a knife. The two guides passed without
an outcry into obscurity and death; Rutli, with a last despairing
exertion, dragged to his own level his unconscious master, crippled by a
broken leg.

Your true hero is apt to tell his tale simply. Rutli did not dwell upon
these details, nor need I. Left alone upon a treacherous ice slope
in benumbing cold, with a helpless man, eight hours afterwards he
staggered, half blind, incoherent, and inarticulate, into a "shelter"
hut, with the dead body of his master in his stiffened arms. The
shelter-keepers turned their attention to Rutli, who needed it most.
Blind and delirious, with scarce a chance for life, he was sent the next
day to a hospital, where he lay for three months, helpless, imbecile,
and unknown. The dead body of the Englishman was identified, and sent
home; the bodies of the guides were recovered by their friends; but no
one knew aught of Rutli, even his name. While the event was still fresh
in the minds of those who saw him enter the hut with the body of his
master, a paragraph appeared in a Berne journal recording the heroism of
this nameless man. But it could not be corroborated nor explained by the
demented hero, and was presently forgotten. Six months from the day he
had left his home he was discharged cured. He had not a kreutzer in his
pocket; he had never drawn his wages from his employer; he had preferred
to have it in a lump sum that he might astonish his family on his
return. His eyes were still weak, his memory feeble; only his great
physical strength remained through his long illness. A few sympathizing
travelers furnished him the means to reach his native village, many
miles away. He found his family had heard of the loss of the Englishman
and the guides, and had believed he was one of them. Already he was
forgotten.

"Ven you vos once peliefed to be det," said Rutli, after a philosophic
pause and puff, "it vos not goot to ondeceif beoples. You oopset
somedings, soomdimes always. Der hole dot you hef made in der grount,
among your frients and your family, vos covered up alretty. You are
loocky if you vill not fint some vellars shtanding upon id! My frent,
ven you vos DINK