eeling subsided. Lewis was
very impressionable, and his young heart recoiled in agony from such a
shock. Although the hunter had been to him nothing but a pleasant
guide, he now felt as if he had lost a friend. When his mind was
capable of connected thought he dwelt on the unfortunate man's kindly,
modest, and bold disposition, and especially on the incidents of the
previous night, when they two had lain side by side like brothers on
their hard couch.

At last he rose, and, with a feeling of dead weight crushing his spirit
began to think of continuing his descent. He felt that, although there
was no hope of rescuing life, still no time should be lost in rousing
the guides of Chamouni and recovering, if possible, the remains.

Other thoughts now came upon him with a rush. He was still high up
among the great cliffs, and alone! The vale of Chamouni was still far
distant, and he was bewildered as to his route, for, in whatever
direction he turned, nothing met his eye save wildly-riven glaciers or
jagged cliffs and peaks. He stood in the midst of a scene of savage
grandeur, which corresponded somewhat with his feelings.

His knowledge of ice-craft, if we may use the expression, was by that
time considerable, but he felt that it was not sufficient for the work
that lay before him; besides, what knowledge he possessed could not make
up for the want of a companion and a rope, while, to add to his
distress, weakness, resulting partly from hunger, began to tell on him.

Perhaps it was well that such thoughts interfered with those that
unmanned him, for they served to rouse his spirit and nerve him to
exertion. Feeling that his life, under God, depended on the wisdom,
vigour, and promptitude of his actions during the next few hours, he
raised his eyes upward for a moment, and, perhaps for the first time in
his life, asked help and guidance of his Creator, with the feeling
strong upon him that help and guidance were sorely needed.

Almost at the commencement of his descent an event occurred which taught
him the necessity of extreme caution. This was the slipping of his axe.
He had left the fatal crevasse only a few hundred yards behind him,
when he came to a fracture in the ice that rendered it impossible to
advance in that direction any longer; he therefore turned aside, but was
met by a snow slope which terminated in another yawning crevasse. While
standing on the top of this, endeavouring to make up his mind as to