Chapter VII

," said Armstrong, from the hind end of the party, " no talking until we're across. This is the one risky place, and talking might bring some ice down/'

The expedition had gone excellently so far. They had started later than had been intended, and had been going now for some eight hours.

They had left the Riffel an hour or two before sunrise, led by the great Ulrich himself, a small-built man, so thin as to resemble a badly made dummy in loosely fitting clothes, wiry-bearded, burned to the colour of old oak, with narrow brighter slits for eyes, a snub nose, and a smiling mouth. He was in trousers, tied below the knee with string, and an ancient coat that had ascended every peak which its owner had climbed for the last five years. The first part of the walk, in the dark, had taken them across the lower slopes of the Corner Grat and down on to the glacier — all simple and easy going — the rope was not even suggested. There they 117 ii8 THE COWARD had seen the sky grow from indigo to translucent sapphire and the stars go out; the marvellous flush of rose and gold crept down the peaks to meet them; and by the time that they were on the summit of the Theodulhorn — the outstanding tower, so to speak, of the long ice- wall that ended far away on the right in the Matterhorn itself — broad day was come; and ten thousand water-tongues, loosened by their lord the Sun, had swelled into that deep, murmurous chorus that sings all day from fields of ice and light.

From the Theodulhorn they had surveyed first the great peaks about them — the Breithorn, the twins beyond, and the enormous masses of Monte Rosa herself on the one side, and the Matterhorn, the Gabelhorn, the Weisshorn on the other. The Riffelhorn looked like a little ruined house across the glacier. Then they had examined their route.

This was the long arete leading from where they stood up to the base of the Giant — a knife-edge, serrated and jagged, it seemed, from where they were, yet, as they presently found, easy going enough if you omit the element of fatigue. For the sun beat on them as from the open door of a furnace; the ice was largely snow, into which now and then an unwary traveller plunged to the knee; there was a brisk wind blowing in their faces, cooling indeed, but indescribably wearying from the efforts they had to make against it. Twice they had stopped for food, and twice, therefore, Val for one had thought he would sooner die than go on again; and yet twice also he had not said an unnecessary word, but had set his face like a flint and plunged obediently forward in the steps of Ulrich, who led. A kind of fury, born of fatigue and monotony, seized him sometimes as he watched the unwearying legs move before him, each, it seemed, with incredible deliberation, yet somehow with a composite speed that almost broke the watcher's heart. It appeared to him as if the little trousered figure in front were lifted by the scruff of the neck, the legs would still move in the air like scissors driven by slow clockwork.... Behind Val came Tom Meredith, then the two Ratcliffes, then Austin, and last Armstrong. It was too big a party really for one rope, but the absence of all real danger excused the fact that they used no more.

It is exceedingly difficult to diagnose accurately the psychological effect of a very long expedition, the greater part of which takes place on the edge of gigantic slopes and precipices, even though on a perfectly safe path, with death, that is to say, regarding the traveller steadily and continuously, although from a decent and respectful distance, for about four hours. It is foolish to say that only three yards separated these climbers from death, for a great many other things separated them as well — the rope for one thing, common prudence for another, the experienced vigilance of a man at either end of the rope for a third. Yet to an imaginative mind these things do not carry their proper weight, especially if that mind is possessed by an exceedingly wearied boy of sixteen.

It would be quite untrue to say that Val had either shown or even felt the slightest lack of nerve. He had not. His first moment of tension had come at the crossing of the Bergschrund in the ascent of the Theodulhorn. He had held his breath, as if for buoyancy, and clenched his teeth on his lower lip, as, staring in front yet perceiving the blue depths beneath him on either side, he had stepped swiftly over the irregular snow bridge that led across the chasm. But he had said not a word. But now he had looked down these even more terrifying gulfs for over four hours; he had listened at the halting-places to a dry description — all the more effective because of its dryness — of the famous tragedy of the Matterhorn in which four out of its seven first conquerors had been killed on the way down, uttered by Mr. Armstrong in response to urgent requests from Austin and Val himself (the victims had " slid on their backs," it seemed, "with outstretched hands," and one by one had dropped over the incalculable edge like pebbles); and he had naturally rehearsed to himself not less than five or six times the probable details of a fall, should he slip out of the rope or should the rope break on either side of him. In most places he would first roll about three yards, then he would drop to an unknown depth, bounce once or twice, and finally disappear into another gulf of which the bottom was the Corner glacier, now so far below them as to render a party walking upon it practically invisible, even against the white glare, or perhaps he would " slide with outstretched hands."...

He was appallingly tired too, as was but natural. That is to say (as the Judge had hinted on Monday night), all those external conventions and ideals which have not yet consolidated into character, were peeled off him, and there remained to carry him through just that bare naked self with which he had been born, hardly modified at all by his sixteen years of youth.

And now they faced the Matterhorn, or rather they stood beneath it, tiny negligible specks of life in the midst of a white and glaring death. Above them, up to the zenith it seemed, towered this monster, inconceivably huge and grim, cutting off half the visible universe — gigantic slopes of rock, ribbed with snow where snow could lie; vast hoi-lows, half a mile across; cruel and overshelving spikes; and there, beneath them, was the great cup-like slope down which they must go, curving across it up on to the rocks again above the Hornli, which, like a watch-dog with his back turned to them, gazed out over the blue valley, leagues away, where out of sight beneath bastions and forests, lay toylike Zermatt, safe and secure and flat. More than once, as the boy had considered this, a passionate spasm of envy of the more prudent travellers had shaken him.

It was at the cup-like hollow immediately beneath that the boy now stared, suddenly conscious that this was going to be altogether different.

It is hard to say why it affected him so profoundly; possibly it was because there was no obvious path to follow, such as was suggested by the arete they had just traversed, possibly because Matterhorn towered so horribly over it — indeed it was the base of the Matterhorn itself that they were to cross. The dangers too were visible here. On the arete there was, at least, nothing threatening from above; here there were incalculable slopes and rocks and ice-fields rising far up into the sky, forming the ice-wall that was to be traversed. The end of any who fell was here full in view, unhidden by a merciful edge; for, beneath this tilted saucer across which they must go, tumbled masses of ice, protruded, cracked and lined with streaks of blue that marked vast openings into the bowels of the earth. It was exceedingly easy to reconstruct here imaginatively the story of the tragedy. Should the whole party fall, or should a single member become detached, the precise details would probably be re-enacted; they would " slide with outstretched hands," not fast at first, but quite irresistibly, increasing their pace, till...

It was at this moment that Armstrong observed that there must be no talking, as the vibration might loosen ice above them.

" And remember," said Tom dispassionately, " to keep axes above, not below; and don't lean too hare on them."

" Wait a minute," said Val. " What am I to do if I slip?"

" You mustn't slip."

"But... but if I do?"

" You mustn't."

Val set his teeth in a kind of despair.

Ulrich turned round, smiling and nodding. He wore heavy black glasses that gave him a grim, unwinking, and enigmatical appearance. He seemed to smile with his lips only. Then he lifted his axe, and cut a single step beneath him.

" Vorwarts!" he exclaimed, and stepped over the low edge.

(n)

It seemed to Austin, following patiently behind Jack Ratcliffe, that ice was not as difficult as he had been led to believe....

Imagine, again, a saucer steeply tilted, with its lower edge set on the top of a heap of ice and pebbles, ten times the height of the saucer. On the top of the saucer imagine a conical, irregular hillock, perhaps three yards high, with snow and pebbles lying on its sides. Now make the saucer about three-quarters of a mile across, with the rest of the setting magnified to scale, and compose it of solid ice, with drifted snow lying here and there; set a party crossing it from the high left to the low right, and you have a tolerable picture of our friends' circumstances. Further, one has to remember that the saucer is extremely irregular, that rocks jut out in a few places, and that the ice itself protrudes here and there in small cliffs and angles.

It seemed to Austin, then, that the descent was not very difficult. It consisted, for him, in placing his feet carefully, one by one, in steps cut out by Ulrich in front. Each foot had to be set in the step very deliberately, since a bad slip would endanger the whole party; but there was plenty of time for this, as no one could move faster than Ulrich, who had to do the cutting. Austin, watching Jack in front, imitated him scrupulously in the holding of his axe; he grasped it very tightly with both hands, its head uppermost and on the left; he drove this in slightly, in advance of himself, before making a stride, and preserved his balance by leaning on it during the actual movement.

It seemed to him not difficult, compared, let us say, with gymnastics. Yet, for all that, he was conscious of a certain strain as the minutes went by. The taking of each step was, in itself, quite a simple matter, like catching a ball; but the catching of a ball five hundred times is considerably more than the mere total of five hundred risks taken separately. (As the lawyer had remarked three days before, two and two by no means always make four.) There was this, then, first: the consciousness that he must make no mistake in a simple operation repeated five hundred times.

And there were other considerations as well. First, no two steps were exactly the same; and the stride between each was about two inches longer than he liked. They had been rather late in starting for their expedition, the sun had been a long while now upon this cradle of avalanches and Ulrich obviously thought it prudent not to take longer over step-cutting than was really necessary. In a few places where the snow was deep he cut no steps at all. Next, the contemplation of the steps above and below undoubtedly had a certain psychological effect. They looked so extremely steep, the distances were so enormous, and the catastrophe of a fall so very obvious. It was like being constantly threatened by a blow which never fell.... And then the intellect chimed in and remarked insistently: " Kindly remember that all this while you are on ice — ice. And ice is notoriously slippery...." When all these considerations surged up in line to take the nerves by storm, and all in the dead silence that had been commanded, Austin thought it prudent to think about other things.

Certainly there were many things to think about.

He forced himself to notice the effect of sun on chipped ice — the indescribably luscious appearance of the crumbled diamonds, and he thought of long drinks in tall, clinking tumblers. He would have given five pounds for one. He had melted some snow into brandy and water at their last halt; but it had burned his palate more than it had refreshed it. An extremely vivid image of the smoking-room at Medhurst, of the tray of syphons and ice and lemonade, floated before him....

He noticed the texture of Jack Ratcliffe's stocking. It emerged, curved over a massive muscle, between a slightly crumpled yellow gaiter and the wet folds of a homespun knickerbocker. He thought, somehow, that that kind of stocking came from Scotland; or was it Paisley? No, shawls came from Paisley.

Then once or twice he considered Val, and wondered how he was getting on, there in front. He caught a glimpse of his cap now and then, with a salmon-fly sticking up at the top. (He had mocked at the wearing of a salmon-fly in Switzerland.) Val seemed to be getting on all right.... He had certainly been subdued by the row on Monday. He had talked very little to-day, and had been scrupulously obedient....

Then he had to take a longer step than usual. He hesitated a moment, then he drove his axe in with all his force, and jumped. (There was, at any rate, one perceptible instant in which neither foot rested on the ice.) He landed safely, and stood poised, conscious of a faint prickling on his upper lip and forehead. He found himself wondering how Val had done it. He also discovered in himself an extraordinary desire to be on the rocks again, over there, half a mile across and down.

They were now about a third of the way across the slope, and the tilt was more marked as well as the surface more broken. They had altered their course a little and were going more directly downwards. At first he did not see why; but in the pauses, while the others moved and he stood still, anchored by his axe, he presently noticed that the line was steering so as to pass beneath a mass of ice clustered about a rock that jutted out some way ahead.

Then, as they drew nearer, step by step, he saw and understood.

Right in the middle of their old course this mass of stuff projected, resembling a broken cliff some fifteen or twenty feet high, as if suddenly arrested in a downward movement. Above it lay piled snow and stones so high as to blot out, to the eyes of those who stood beneath it, all but the very topmost peak of the Matterhorn itself. It looked, to unskilled eyes, as if it were the crest of an avalanche suddenly pulled up sharp in full career. Beneath it, in a long precipitous curve, lay a deep channel of ice, smooth as glass, sloping down at a far more acute angle than that which they were traversing, losing itself perhaps three hundred feet below in the general slopes of the ice-wall.

Austin had a minute or two to regard all this closely and carefully, as the procession in front had halted; and even he, little as he knew, understood that this was by far the most difficult passage that he had yet encountered; and, not only the most difficult, but the most dangerous; and not only the most dangerous, but the most terrifying.

Let me explain again exactly why.

Beneath the avalanche head (if it may be called so) there was a deep channel, like a gutter-pipe, at least fifteen feet deep and a good twenty yards across, and the whole of this, with the exception of the edges, was smooth and glassy ice. There were two possible ways to get across it. Either the channel itself must be negotiated, down across and up again, or the jutting cliff must be traversed. In the one case an ice-wall of extreme abruptness must be crossed; in the other, that same ice-wall, or rather channel, would be immediately beneath. And in both, a fall would be as serious as possible...

He wondered why they were waiting. Jack Ratcliffe in front stood like a pillar, both feet in the step, anchored to the slope above him by his axe; beyond him Jim, also motionless. Beyond he could make out Tom Meredith's head and left shoulder. All were motionless. He could hear Armstrong whispering to himself and fidgeting behind. Obviously Ulrich was reconnoitring as to which of the two courses were the safer. Austin could hear the chipping of an axe in front.

Then a decision was apparently arrived at, and Austin drew a breath of relief. (Anything was better than this waiting. ) For he suddenly saw the bearded face of the guide in profile turn to the left and his broad shoulders follow it. They were going to cross the cliff.

The slope was so acute that he could see no more of Ulrich than down to the knees; but all that he could see was active and alert. He stood facing the edge of the cliff, hacking at it in vast strokes; and between the strokes the clear tinkle and clash of the fragments of ice sounded in the channel below. Then, suddenly, his whole figure appeared, swift as a spider as he rose on to the wide step he had made; and again came the clash of the axe as he attacked the next point....

Austin began to observe more closely the probable course that would be taken.

First there was the big hummock of ice on which Ulrich was now standing. It would take perhaps four steps to cross this. Then, from where he was now standing, all that he could see was a tall edge of rock, leaning forward over the channel beneath; and it was either under or over this rock that they would have to go. He had seen, however, just before that there was ice again beyond this, before the ordinary slopes could be reached...

He watched Ulrich in a kind of dream, as the guide slowly mounted the hummock; and he saw, too, Val presently pass up to the left to allow more rope-room for the leader. The boy stood quite motionless, his head down, visible as the guide had been just before, from his knees upwards. The rest of the party remained in their steps.

Then Ulrich turned round and beckoned, leaning his axe against the rock, and gathering up the rope in both hands. He made a vivid little picture as he stood there, his legs wide apart, his eager birdlike face bent down, and his whole outline standing out sharp and distinct against the blazing slopes behind.

Then Val mounted, driving his axe above him; and, simultaneously, Tom Meredith followed to the vacated place, and Austin prepared to go forward. He heard Mr. Armstrong shifting his axe behind.

When Austin himself at last arrived at the foot of the hummock, and was turning to look down at the treacherous channel that sloped away to the right, he heard a sharp whisper in German from Mr. Armstrong, who had followed him step by step, and saw Ulrich's face peering over the shoulders of the three who were now mounted on the hummock.

There was a short dialogue, all in whispers between the two. Ulrich nodded once or twice, and then disappeared again.

" Look here, you fellows," whispered Armstrong from below. " We've got to jump. Val, you're the first. Watch Ulrich closely. Put your feet where he does, and jump when he tells you. The rest hold on tight. We mustn't have any mistake here.... Wait a second. And let no one move till the word's given."

He waved Austin aside, and came past him with extraordinary agility in so heavy a man. He insinuated himself right against the side of the jutting cliff, chipped out a couple of heel-holes, and then braced himself in his place, holding the rope in both hands. Austin understood that this was done in case the party fell. But it still seemed incredible to the young man that such a jump could be made....

" Now then," the other whispered sharply. " Brace yourself tight.... Go on, Jack."

From where Austin crouched, beneath the hummock, holding on firmly with his axe, with both heels together in a crack of ice, he could hear the preparations being made overhead, and a whisper or two.

The situation was pretty plain.

Beyond the jutting rock wall were (as he remembered having seen from further up the slope) hummocks of ice corresponding to these on this side. Now the rock was' at least perpendicular, and so worn with ice and snow as to afford no foot or handhold; and it ran down, moreover, sheer on to the ice channel beneath. Of course two other ways over were conceivable. Either the channel itself might have been traversed, or a way, perhaps, found somewhere far overhead. But it was the middle course that had been chosen, and this involved, apparently, a jump. This jump must, obviously, be formidable. It would mean leaping from the ice hummock on this side, past the rock, and alighting on the ice on the other side. And there would be the cheering view of glassy ice channel, seen at a very acute angle beneath.... Well, he supposed it was all right.... He found a certain difficulty in swallowing, and he tried to moisten his lips.... How lovely the valley looked right down there beneath him, beyond the snow....

Then Ulrich jumped.

There was a stir in the figures above him as each gripped himself into his place in case of a slip; but the sound of the alighting feet came sharp and clear without the hint even of a scramble.

Austin could see nothing of the proceedings at all. He was observing with great attention Jack RatclifTe's boots, that were planted on the ice not a foot away from his own head.

:c Wait a second, Val," came a sharp whisper, which Austin recognised as Tom's. " Ulrich's not ready.... Now then...."

There was a pause.

"Axe-head to the left.... Both feet together.... Good Lord?..."

Austin waited.

" Go on... go on..." whispered Mr. Armstrong's voice, as if to himself.

Austin waited. What an enormous time Val seemed to be....

Then, without warning, the man beside him sprang upright, and without a word of apology, pushed abruptly by him and scrambled on to the first step of the hummock.

" Will you - " he began in a fierce whisper.

But there came an interruption.

Suddenly, without the faintest warning, without even an attempt at a whisper, there rose up a wailing, miserable cry which, for the first moment, Austin could not believe was the voice of Val.

" I can't! I can't," wailed the voice. " It's no good. I can't. It's too far. I can't.... Oh-

:< Val! Jump at once! Don't be an ass! " came the sharp order, from immediately over Austin's head.

" My good chap began a remonstrative whisper from Tom.

" Leave him to me, sir," came the sharp, imperalive voice again. " Stand up, Val. I'm ashamed of you.... Now will you jump? I shall tell Ulrich to pull you if you don't."

"I can't.... I can't.... No! No, don't."

It seemed to Austin as an incredible dream. Nothing seemed real, except the biting snow into which his fingers were clenched, and the gaitered legs of the man who stood now in Tom's place. the tiny details within the immediate reach of his senses....

Then the gaitered legs scrambled fiercely and violently. There was a movement overhead as the others shifted to let him come by, and then again the ruthless voice began.

" Do you want to be kicked over it, sir?. I swear I'll kick you over it if you don't jump.... Stand up, I tell you.... Don't crouch there.... Now jump...."

Again there was silence.

It seemed to Austin afterwards as if at least half an hour had passed before the party came back, first Mr. Armstrong, white and furious, swinging himself down from the hummock as if wholly reckless; then the three friends, with faces at once quiet and excited; and finally Val... Val looking like someone else. A trail of rope came after him; it caught somewhere as he climbed, shaking all over, down on to the slope. Austin, without a word, jerked it clear.

But it could not have been more than ten minutes.

Ulrich had joined in once or twice, his German sounding more impossibly unintelligible than usual from beyond the rock behind which he stood; and the miserable talk had become at last a dialogue between the Secretary and the guide. Then there had been movements and shif tings overhead. Then, it seemed, Ulrich had unroped, as it was impossible for him to get back to the rest.

Austin laid a hand on Tom's arm, as he went past him.

" What are we going to do? " he whispered.

Tom jerked his head upwards. There were many emotions in his eyes....

" Armstrong's going to take us over the top," he said.

" Some people are just made that way," said Armstrong genially. " I don't know that you can blame them. It's just nervous weakness."

It was a depressing little council of three that was gathered the same night in the Merediths' sitting-room — the two Meredith parents and the Secretary.

The climbing party had got back just in time for table d'hote; they had been delayed contrary to expectation by the unfortunate little incident; but the rest of the expedition had gone well. They had been obliged to return on their track a certain distance, and to strike higher up over the top of the obstacle which had proved too much for Val's nerves; and here Ulrich, climbing back alone, had met them and reunited himself to the rope. From that point onwards the party had gone with speed and security, had struck the path above Hornli, and the rest had been simple.

" But it was just funk — the Philistine would say," observed the lawyer with the cool, detached voice known so well to the clients of the other side. " And I gather you told him so."

" Certainly I told him so when it might have been of use. Sometimes a sense of acute shame will overcome the nervous fear. I've known that happen."

The other looked up, flicking the ash from his cigar.

"Oh! you've known it happen before?"

" I've seen it four times altogether. In two instances the man overcame it almost at once — when... when it was put to him plainly. The third case was a woman who went into hysterics, and had to be dragged up a bad bit like a sack of coals. And the fourth case failed!"

"What happened?"

" Well, it got as far as kicking him. There was real danger, you understand, to the whole party; and there was no other way round."

"But it failed, you say?"

" It did. We spent the night on the rocks, and came down at our leisure."

" Why didn't you kick Val? "

The Secretary paused.

"I couldn't," he said briefly; "though I very nearly did. But he looked at me so wretchedly.... Besides, there was another way round, you see."

There was a pause, and Mrs. Meredith resumed her knitting.

It had been an exceedingly unpleasant business, breaking it to those two. Armstrong only thanked his stars that they were not the boys' parents; but it was quite bad enough.

It had been obvious at dinner that something had gone very wrong indeed. Austin had appeared, silent and morose, ten minutes after the rest. Tom had refused to say anything at all except that they had to retrace their steps at one point; and Val had not appeared at all until dinner was ending. It seemed that he had been having a hot bath and that he hadn't been able to get any hot water for a long time.

The Secretary, viewing this scene from across the room, had determined on solving the intolerable situation as soon as possible, and, with infinite guile, had caused a note to be placed in Mr. Meredith's hands as he left the table. And so, here they were.

" I gather that you talked to the boy on the -way back?"

"Yes; he had fallen behind the rest, after the Hornli; so I broke a bootlace and caught him."

"Well?"

" Perhaps I was weak," said the other meditatively, getting out his pouch. "Of course I made it perfectly clear that there must be no more big expeditions, but, for the rest, I let him down as easily as I could. Besides, I really believed what I said."

"What did you say?"

" I told him not to blame himself. I said that there were some people who simply had not the head for climbing. There was a V.C. I knew who turned green in the face when he looked down a precipice. And I said that I was very sorry for his disappointment, but that he must reckon himself one of those."

"Well?"

" He seemed enormously cheered," said the other rather drily, after a good blow down his pipe. ("By the way, may I smoke a pipe down here?) Enormously cheered. He's an emotional chap. and I'm very sorry for him," he added emphatically.

" Do you believe one word you've been saying? " asked the lawyer delicately.

The other laughed outright.

" Well, I do, you know. At least, I believe it's perfectly true of a great many people. It's the people on the border-line I'm doubtful about — the people, I mean, who honestly haven't got very good heads, and with whom it's just touch and go whether their will is master or not."

"AndVal'soneofthem?"

" I've got no right to assume that Remember, he was actually rash the last time he went out. It may very well have been that the bit to-day really was too much for his head, and that no amount of resolution could have got him over."

" And was it a really dangerous bit? "

" It was what I should call a nasty bit. Perfectly safe, you know, if you did the right thing;

and entirely within the power of every one of the party."

"Describe it."

" Well," went on the Secretary, drawing at his pipe, " it was a ten- foot jump, and downwards. There was a good take off, and a good landing. The only nasty thing was the rock. It looked as if one might hit against it. On the other hand, there was the rope. I shouldn't blame a man for missing his foothold; but then, you see, we were all roped. At the worst one would have got a bang or two."

"It was, honestly, within the boy's power?"

The other looked up for a sharp instant.

" I shouldn't have asked him to jump if it hadn't been," he said quietly. " It certainly was within his physical power. But it seems not to have been within his moral power."

The lawyer got up and went to the table.

" Well," he said, taking the stopper out of the decanter, " say when."

Austin went up to bed that night with a queer mixture of feelings, in which vicarious shame, a sort of compassion, and a faint element of triumph were discernible in turns. It was his Meddity, so to say, that was responsible for the first, and his humanity for the second, and he would scarcely have been an earthly elder brother if the third element had been wholly wanting.

He had had ample time to arrange his attitude by now; for he had not exchanged five words with Val since the catastrophe. The walk back had been as Mr. Armstrong had described it; and as soon as they got upstairs Val had whisked in, snatched a bath-towel, and vanished again till the end of dinner. And, ever since, Austin had sat with Tom and the Ratcliffes in august conclave on the terrace to discuss the Matterhorn, and the question as to how Val had best be told that he mustn't come with them. Once Austin had seen his brother pass across a lighted window, and later he had heard his voice from another group at the other end of the terrace.

The attitude he had determined on is best described as falling under the " Poor-old-chap " category. He proposed to be extremely magnanimous, to assign Val's deplorable exhibition to merely physical causes, and so to lead up to the delicate conclusion with regard to the Matterhorn. For this, on the whole, had been the attitude of the Ratcliffes. They too had described, as out of the experience of years, parallel cases to Val's; they too had advanced the very same instance of the V.C. who could not look over a precipice.

Tom had been more silent; he had smoked a great deal and said very little. Once, when Austin appealed to him, he had assented politely and shortly to the effect that the " physical-nerve thing " was by far the most probable. In short, it had been an exceedingly charitable, if slightly superior conversation; and it was this precise blend of charity and superiority, warmed up by a bottle of fizzy wine, that Austin carried him into the large, white, bare room, lit by electricity, where he and his brother slept.

Val was already in bed, deep in a Tauchnitz volume, as Austin had been a few nights before, lying on his back with the book held above him. He gave a brotherly murmur of greeting and continued to read. Then, as Austin finished his prayers and stood up to disrobe, Val shut the book sharply enough to attract attention, made somewhat of a commotion as he snuggled down into the bedclothes, and took up his parable in a loud and cheerful voice.

" I say, Austin, what an ass I made of myself to-day!"

" Oh! well " began the other, taken by surprise. But there was no need to make any comment. Val proceeded, with almost a suspicious rapidity, to lay the case open.

" Yes, a real ass of myself. I'm jolly ashamed. And I've had a good talk to Armstrong; and he quite agrees I mustn't try the Matterhorn, after all. He tells me he's known other people just the same. There was a V.C. who couldn't look over a precipice without turning green.... I'm beastly sorry, old chap, for having made such an ass of myself. I oughtn't to have tried it at all. But, you know, I couldn't tell without trying as to whether my head would stand it or not. And it seems it won't. So there's an end of it."

Austin was conscious of a sudden and violent wave of irritation. This was precisely what he had intended to say himself; yet it seemed as if his compassion left him wholly as soon as Val said it. He folded his dress- jacket carefully on the chair and laid his waistcoat on the top.

" I shall envy you frightfully, old chap, when you do the Matterhorn. But Armstrong quite agrees with me that I mustn't even attempt it."

" So did we this evening downstairs," said Austin cruelly.

"We? Who?"

" Tom and the Ratcliffes and myself."

He heard Val swallow in his throat. But the boy went on gallantly.

"Ah! I thought you must be talking about that," he said. "Of course, it's the only possible thing to do. I'm frightfully sick at the thought of it... after coming out here on purpose. But you do agree, don't you, that I'd better not try?"

Austin slipped off his trousers and turned for his pyjamas.

"Yes," he said. "It's a pity you didn't find out before to-day."

Again there was that slight pause, and again the boy kept up his pose magnificently.

" I know," he said. " But I couldn't tell before trying a really bad place; and "

" Tom says it wasn't really bad at all. There was no danger, you know."

Val laughed; and even unperceptive Austin recognised that the laughter came from the throat, not the heart.

" Well, it was bad enough for me, anyhow. It looked bad; and that's the thing, Armstrong says, that matters if you haven't got the climbing head."

Austin got into bed and drew the clothes to his chin.

' Yes, I suppose so.... Do you mind putting the light out? I want to go to sleep."

The switch was beside Val's bed, and the light went out with astounding promptness.

" I say, Austin; do you want to go to sleep at once?"

" Yes."

" I wish you'd talk " began the voice, with ever so slight a quaver, out of the darkness.

" My good chap, there'll be plenty of time to talk to-morrow.... Good night."

There was silence.

" Good night," said Austin again, seized with compunction.

Again there was silence.

" Sulky brute," said Austin to himself beneath the bedclothes. He felt he wanted a little reassurance.

Once in the night he woke, wide awake in an instant, from a savagely vivid dream of enormous white toppling peaks and cavernous green ice, and turned over in bed. Then he listened for Val's breathing. There was none; and he knew with an intuition, of which there was no questioning, that the boy was lying awake too, in an agony of self-contempt and misery. He knew, in those few minutes in which he was too proud and self-righteous to speak, that he had known all along that Val's pose was no more than a pose — a pose snatched at and gripped, since self-respect stood or fell with it. Yet he did not speak. He told himself that it was good for his younger brother to be humiliated for once; perhaps he wouldn't be so complacent after this. So he said nothing, and presently was asleep again.

When he awoke again, not only was it broad day, but Val was gone.

When he was dressed he went to the window; and there, in the sunlight on the terrace, was Val, talking eagerly, and, it seemed, even eloquently, to Tom and the two Ratcliffes. And at that sight his heart hardened again.

As he went past Val's bed to get to the door, something about the smoothness of the pillow attracted his attention. Obviously Val had turned it over for some reason. So Austin turned it back, and the pillow was moist on the lower side. He looked at it a minute or two. Then he turned it carefully back and went down to breakfast.