The herald., 1894-12-07

1t is the unwritten but most stringent
rule of mountain climbing. man may
cut tho rope to save friend, but not to
save himself. But Harry Richards, hang
ing in the crcvosse, was not bound by rules.
He called again:
"Gaspard!''
Eyes, monsieur
"You cannot save me, Gaspard'"
II fear not, monsieur
"Then cut the rope. I can't cut it my
self because my knife has been jerked out
of my pocket. Cut it for me-
Thon there was silence-a silence as of
the grave-whilo Gaspard Lafargue bat
tied with himself. He was no coward. All
the Swiss guides are brave, and he was
among the bravest of them. At Cham
ounix and at Courmayeur there still lin
ger stirring stories of his pluck. He had
stood in just such peril as this once before.
The watch he carried in his pocket had
been given to him by an English Alpinist
whose life he had saved at hideous danger
to his own. He had been covered with
glory for his courage in the columns OF
The Alpine Journal. And he had been
brave without thought of glory, merely
because it was his duty as a mountain
guide
Now, too, he could be as brave as ever,
but for single thought-the thought of
Nannctto, with tho laughing eyes, waiting
for him at tho Mont Cervin and wonder
ing why he did not come. Through the
mist and tho snow ho seemed to see the
smile of mingled love and pride with
which she always welcomed him back aft
er his perilous excursions Again he pic
lures her anxiety deepening into terror as
bo bpl1r Lot h.
her sobs, bitter and inconsolable, when
tho search party found the bodies and told
her of his end.
"Never to sec Nannette sgainl Never
to see Nannettc again!''
He said the words softly over to himself,
and they unnamed him. The thought
was more than he could bear. Straining
every muscle to save himself from being
drawn, even now at the last moment into
the icy cavern, he pulled the knife out Of
his pocket with his left hand and opened
it with his teeth.
"For Nannette's SAKE" he murmured
as he drew the blade across the strands.
The strain ceased, and he was free, and
then a fresh thought began to trouble him.
The first sense Of relief only lasted for a
moment. The sip of brandy that he took
to revive his circulation hardly prolonged
the moment and then he was overwhelmed
with the inevitable horror at the thing he
had done, for a brave man who plays the
coward, or who merely does what the con-
vention of bis class has settled to be cow
ardly, must needs pay for 1t afterward.
Gaspard remembered tho case of Peter
Tangwaldor. They bounded Peter out of
Zermatt on the mere suspicion-the un-
just suspicion, as most think-of having
cut the rope. But in his own case, as Cas-
pard knew, it would not be q suspicion,
but a certainty. There were the proofs
resting at the bottom Of the crevasse, where
they must presently bo found, but where
he could not descend to tamper with them.
They did not love him, those Zermatt
guides, and what handle he had given
them He pictured his home coming and
his reception, the question what he had
done with the herr, the inevitable answer
that he had left him on the mountain, the
search that he himself would be expected
to direct, the awful discovery of the truth.
How they would look at him and scorn
him! What stories they would spread of
him-stories that Nannette perhaps would
be the first to hearl Yes, that was the
worst thought of all. How could he face
Nannette again with that shame behind
him? And how could Nannette go on low
ing him when this tale ran riot in the vii
lago and he could not deny itP Better
surely never to see her at all than to see
hcr feeling fit only for her contempt!
So his thoughts ran as ho stood half
dazed amid the binding snow
No. no." he said; II cannot go back.
do not dare to go back. Better to die
here alone while no one knows"
Then ho crept up to the edge Of the
orevasse and orouched there. He felt no
impulse to throw himself into it. A man
does not seek violent death when a calm
and peaceful death can be attained as cas-
lily. But he threw himself down upon the
very verge OF the frozen gulf where his
herr lay buried, and the cold stiffened out
his limbs, and the snowflakes fell on him
and formed his canopy. And so he lay
when old Christian Summermatter, who
led tho search party, stumbled on his body
and saw the cut rope and understood.
Yct, though ho understood, old Chris
tian did not speak, for Christian, though
he liked not tho men of Chamounix, re-
spected both the faith of the living and
the memory of the dead, and Nannette Of
the Mont Ccrvin never knew how Gaspard
Lafargue had shamed himself before ho
died. PHILADELPHIA Press