Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1899-03-17
In THE GLACIER.

perhaps SO, but looking as hard and tough
and generally fit as most men of half his
age.
eyes, sir, " said the guide, who stood
before him at the inn door, land We'll
have to start early if we are to get back
the same day"
Sir Robert Ballard turned and re-en-
tered his room. From his desk he pulled
out a sheet of paper, and, picking up a
pen, sat down at a table and began a let
ter.
MY DEAR HARRY-I'm afraid I've not been
quite fair to you. Thinking over things againI
can see that your foolish pranks which so much
offended me may have been-indeed no doubt
were-the results Of sheer youthful high spir-
its. l am therefore again altering my will,
and instead Of my cousin James Rennie being
my residuary legatee you will find the bulk
Of my property will eventually come to you.
/ trust this will have been a lesson to you and
that you will grow up q man worthy of the
trust / am reposing in you. Your affectionate
uncle, ROBERT BALLARD.
Sir Robert sealed and stamped the letter
and then on q sheet of foolscap proceeded
rapidly and with businesslike precision to
redraft his will.
1t seemed an easy enough matter, and
took but very few minutes. You would
hardly have imagined tho amoun in
question was something like ESQ, 600 or
600, 900.
The rapid pen ceased flying over the
paper, and Sir Robert touched the bell.
"Call Max Schneider" he said to the
waiter, land you, too, come in. 1 want
you to witness this signature for me-"
He signed the document, the two men
affixed their signatures, and then he fold
ed it, placed it in an envelope and slipped
it into an inner pocket Of his Norfolk
jacket.
"What time do we start tomorrow,
MAXI" he asked.
"Not later than half past 8, sir, " an
swered the guide.
VERY well, then, I shall go to bed at
once, and l suppose you'll do the same"
Then to the waiter: mind you call me
sharp at 8. Good night"
Aud 20 minutes later he was sleeping
like a baby.
s'Great luck having such lovely wealth
err, eh, MAXI"
"Lovely indeed, Sir Robert. But pray
don't say anything about it till we're clear
of the ice. It's the worst of bad luck, sir"
Sir Robert laughed-the laugh of a
strong man who is thoroughly pleased
with himself.
Indeed he had reason to be pleased.
Very few men had ever climbed the beet
ling cliffs of the Alguille Vert at all. Few
er still could boast Of having accomplished
the feat within the hours of a single day.
Half an hour later they reached the edge
Of the ice. The sun had now set, and tho
air, chill with approaching night, was no
longer clear as it had been. Pale wreaths
of smoky mist hung in light bands, which
seemed to shift and change kaleidoscope
ally, though no breeze was felt.
Still roped together, as they had been
during the entire climb, they crossed the
moraine and started steadily tramping
across the rough ice, whose surface was
broken by a hundred deep riffs and lumpy,
yawning crevasses.
The fog closed and fell thicker and
thicker.
Some three hours later that night one
Of the guides burst into the kitchen of the
Montvert inn.
His face was white and drawn, and he
was almost speechless with excitement,
misery and fatigue.
At last he managed to gasp out his pite-
u story-how they had missed their way
in the fog, how he had heard a sharp cry
of warning from Max, who was leading
the party; how next he had been jerked
off his feet by a tremendous pull at the
rope round his waist, and how he had des-
perately saved himself by driving his
alpenstock into the ice. Next thing he
knew he was a~lone-alone on the edge of
a giant crevasse, whose misty depths
yawned silent as a grave.
The instant they understood him a res
cue party was formed, under the guidance
of Herman, the innkeeper.
All night the devoted men worked and
most of next day. But it was useless.
The glacier did not easily give up its prey.
A big, broad shouldered, good looking
young fellow of about eight and twenty
was sitting in a rather dingy little room
in Bloomsbury answering a letter he had
just received.
Harry Ballard had been looking out for
a mar Of accompanying a reading party
abroad during the long vacation, and by
good luck an even better billet had come
his way. An old friend of his father, a
Mr.. Ffolkes, had written to him to engage
his services as tutor and general bear lead
er to his son, young Everard Ffolkes, dur
ing a forthcoming Swiss tour.
He had always wanted to get abroad,
and now the chance had fallen his way he
was resolved to make the most of 1t.
Young Everard, his pupil, was a thor
oughly nice lad, and the whole expedition
seemed to partake more of the nature of a
holiday than serious work. The two
trudged afoot thr ,ugh lovely valleys, up
turf clad slopes, over rock bound, magnif-
cent passes. drinking in the clear air and
enjoying themselves rather like two school
boys than a tutor and his pupil.
Everard wanted to climb a mountain.
Harry rather discouraged the idea. He
told the boy Of the fate of his uncle, Sir
Robert Ballard.
Eyes, I remember hearing of that when
was quite small" answered Everard
alphabetically. "Were the bodies ever
recovered"
mo, never" said Harry, land proba-
bly, never will be-"
They walked in silence a little way,
then Harry said:
"Do you know, Everard, / should like
rather to see the place. Suppose we go up
to Montvertf We can do it in two days
from Chamouni. Your father put no re-
striction On our movements"
"Then let's CO." replied the boy keenly.
MpnkunNk hod ISonCrvnn rp1tka n fashion.