g here?" said
Saxe suddenly, as Dale bent down here and there to examine the stone.

"I did, herr. Nobody uses this pass. There is no need. It is very
difficult, and leads away up to the everlasting snow."

"Then, Melchior, how is it that the stones are worn so much?"

The guide shook his head.

"It is as if a river had run along here," he said. "I suppose it is the
rain that has slowly worn it so."

"No," said Dale, with the voice of authority, "it is the ice."

"No, herr; there is no ice here. A great deal of snow comes down from
the great stock up yonder, and from the valley between Piz Accio and Piz
Nero, here on the right--avalanches of snow. We could not walk along
here in March; it would be madness. But it soon wastes, and is washed
away."

"No, Melchior, it is not snow or water that has smoothed all this, but
ice. There must have been a huge glacier all along here."

The guide shook his head.

"Look, man," cried Dale, "it is written on the stones;" and he pointed
to those beneath them, and then to others high up, which presented the
same appearance.

"The stones and rocks are worn smooth, herr; but I never heard my father
or grandfather speak of ice in this valley."

"No," said Dale quietly, "and your grandfather never heard his ancestors
speak of it, nor they in turn, right back to the most remote times of
history; but, all the same, a huge glacier must have filled the whole of
this valley, sixty or seventy feet above where we stand."

"A very long time ago, then, herr."

"Who can say how many ages? Glaciers shrink and melt away in time. The
one in the other valley has retired a good deal."

"Ah, yes, herr--hundreds of yards. Old people say it once came nearly
to Andregg's chalet."

"To be sure; and how do the rocks look where it has retired?"

"Rubbed smooth, like this, herr."

"Of course; and there is no denying this fact. It must have been a
mighty glacier indeed."

They went after the mule up the valley, content to follow the animal's
guidance; and invariably, as Melchior pointed out, Gros picked out the
best path. As they went right on the valley contracted, and the sides,
which towered up more and more perpendicularly, displayed the peculiar,
smooth, polished look, just as if masses of stone had constantly ground
against their sides.

"Now, Saxe, look here," cried Dale, suddenly pausing by a great mass of
grey stone. "Here is a proof that I am right."

"Is it? I do