perpendicular scarp of rock which he had begun to climb, so as to reach
a patch of wild rhododendrons.

There was another personage present, in the shape of a sturdy,
muscular-looking man, whose swarthy face was sheltered by a wide-brimmed
soft felt hat, very much turned up at the sides, and in whose broad band
was stuck a tuft of the pale grey, starry-looking, downy plant known as
the Edelweiss. His jacket was of dark, exceedingly threadbare velvet;
breeches of the same; and he wore gaiters and heavily nailed lace-up
boots; his whole aspect having evoked the remarks, when he presented
himself at the door of the chalet:

"I say, Mr Dale, look here! Where is his organ and his monkey? This
chap has been asking for you--for Herr Richard Dale, of London."

"Yes, I sent for him. It is the man I am anxious to engage for our
guide."

For Melchior Staffeln certainly did look a good deal like one of the
"musicians" who infest London streets with "kists o' whustles," as the
Scottish gentleman dubbed them--or much noisier but less penetrating
instruments on wheels.

He was now standing wearing a kind of baldric across his chest, in the
shape of a coil of new soft rope, from which he rarely parted, whatever
the journey he was about to make, and leaning on what, at first sight,
seemed to be a stout walking-stick with a crutch handle, but a second
glance revealed as an ice-axe, with, a strong spike at one end, and a
head of sharp-edged and finely pointed steel, which Saxe said made it
look like a young pick-axe.

This individual had wrinkled his face up so much that his eyes were
nearly closed, and his shoulders were shaking as he leaned upon the
ice-axe, and indulged in a long, hearty, nearly silent laugh.

"Ah! it's no laughing matter, Melchior," said the broad-shouldered,
bluff, sturdy-looking Englishman. "I don't want to begin with an
accident."

"No, no," said the guide, whose English seemed to grow clearer as they
became more intimate. "No accidents. It is the Swiss mountain air
getting into his young blood. In another week he will bound along the
matt, or dash over the green alp like a goat, and in a fortnight be
ready to climb a spitz like a chamois."

"Yes, that's all very well, my man; but I prefer a steady walk. Look
here, Saxe!"

"I'm listening, Mr Dale," said the lad.

"Then just get it into your brain, if you can, that we are not out on a
schoolboy trip, but upon the borders of new, almost untri