gether before attempting it?"
suggested Lewis, hastening after him.

Le Croix did not answer, but quickened his pace to a run.

"Not there!" exclaimed Lewis, in sudden alarm. "It is almost too wide
for a leap, and the snow on the other side overhangs. Stop! for God's
sake--not there!"

He rushed forward, but was too late. Le Croix was already on the brink
of the chasm; next moment, with a tremendous bound, he cleared it, and
alighted on the snow beyond. His weight snapped off the mass, his arms
were thrown wildly aloft, and, with a shout, rather than a cry, he fell
headlong into the dark abyss!

Horror-stricken, unable to move or cry out Lewis stood on the edge.
From far down in the blue depths of the crevasse there arose a terrible
sound, as if of a heavy blow. It was followed by the familiar rattling
of masses of falling ice, which seemed to die away in the profound heart
of the glacier.

The "weary struggle" had come to an end at last. The chamois-hunter had
found a tomb, like too many, alas! of his bold-hearted countrymen, among
those great fields of ice, over which he had so often sped with sure
foot and cool head in days gone by.

Lewis was as thoroughly convinced that his late comrade was dead, as if
he had seen his mangled corpse before him, but with a sort of passionate
unbelief he refused to admit the fact. He stood perfectly motionless,
as if transfixed and frozen, in the act of bending over the crevasse.
He listened intently and long for a sound which yet he knew could never
come. An oppressive, sickening silence reigned around him, which he
suddenly broke with a great and terrible cry, as, recovering from his
stupor, he hurried wildly to and fro, seeking for some slope by which he
might descend to the rescue of his friend.

Vainly he sought. Both walls of the crevasse were sheer precipices of
clear ice. At one spot, indeed, he found a short slope, and, madly
seizing his axe, he cut foot-holds down it, descending, quite regardless
of danger, until the slope became too perpendicular to admit of farther
progress. Struck then with alarm for himself, he returned cautiously to
the top, while beads of cold perspiration stood on his pale brow. A few
minutes more, and he became sufficiently calm to realise the fact that
poor Le Croix was indeed beyond all hope. As the truth was forced into
his heart he covered his face with his hands and wept bitterly.

It was long ere the passionate burst of f