CHAPTER XIX.

WINTER ON THE MOUNTAINS.

On the 22d of January, about two hours before dark, Theresa and Rudolf's mother were busily packing a basket with as much as it would hold.

"When they started, there were four of them," observed Theresa, "and they carried four times as much as can be carried by one; therefore their provisions would last four times as long as they will now, so we must send them the oftener. Meanwhile, they shall have as much as Rudolf can carry. Here's room for a bit of soap: and here's a corner into which I can squeeze a cake for Johann. The brandy--the oil--the bacon--the loaves--the dried chamois,--do you think you can carry anything more, Rudolf?"

Rudolf lifted the burthen, and pronounced it "no weight at all." "However," added he, "there's some difference in a burthen on a level floor like this, and dragging one down the side of a mountain too steep to scale, except in _crampons_; so I think it will do."

"Just this one cheese more, Rudolf."

"Very well. I think that will do."

"Is it not rather too early to start yet?"

"It would be safer, in some respects, to wait longer; but, considering the distance, and other things, I might fail of reaching the châlet if I put it off later."

"Yes, yes. Oh, Rudolf! believe me, I know full well the great dangers you are encountering for my poor parents--"

"Don't name it, Theresa. Even if you were no ways related to them, think you I would not do it for the sake of Hofer?"

"Surely, surely!" cried his mother. "My boy speaks well; but yet, Theresa, I think it were better to go twice, than go overburthened and meet some evil by the way."

"Rudolf," said Theresa, "you will laugh at what I have prepared for you; but see! here is a loose white garment, with a hood, to cover you quite up, which, if you put on when you reach the mountains, will enable you to cross the snow undiscerned."

"Excellent!" said Rudolf, arraying himself in it, to make sure how it looked. "I shall certainly find it useful."

Theresa rolled it up into as small a compass as possible.

"And here are a few lumps of sugar, Rudolf: put one in your mouth when you reach the glaciers--"

"You make too much of me," said he, tenderly.

"And now," said his mother, "let us kneel down and pray."

With an atmosphere of sanctity about him, and a heart full of good purposes, the young man cheerily started on his perilous mission. It was yet light; but as long as he kept among villages and cottages, there was nothing in a man's trudging along, openly carrying a basket. Once or twice, when he fancied a suspicious eye rested upon it, he cried gaily, "I hope you expect as good a dinner to-morrow as I do!" and began whistling.

At length, after a walk of about six miles, he found himself rising above the haunts of men, though not beyond their observation. He now enveloped himself in the white garment, which covered his burthen as well as himself, put a lump of sugar in his mouth, and pursued his way over the frozen snow; looking like a snow-wreath himself. Suddenly he perceived footprints in various directions.

"Some one has been here lately," thought he: "this outer crust has not long been crushed. Yet who, without a purpose, would be here but the wolf or bear?"

Turning the angle of a rock, he ran against a man, who uttered a shriek, and sprang backwards, throwing out his hands, and exclaiming--

"Avaunt, spirit of the mountain!"

Rudolf, instantly perceiving that his extraordinary costume had made him mistaken for something supernatural, would have seized his advantage by rushing past with a flourish of his arms, and a wild, terrific cry; but unfortunately his white drapery fell off.

"Why, it's Rudolf!" exclaimed Franz, relieved.

"Franz!" cried Rudolf, in alarm and displeasure. "What are you about here?"

"What are _you_ about, you mean?" retorted Franz. "One question's as good as another. To whom are you carrying that basket?"

"That's no matter of yours!"

"I _know_. You can have but one object, and that's to go to the Sandwirth."

"Look ye, Franz," said Rudolf, boiling over with rage, and setting down his burthen: "this won't do to go any further. Who are you, to interfere with my objects, whatsoever they may be? We'll have it out on this spot. I've got on my wrestling-ring;" exhibiting a very thick silver ring on the little finger of his right hand; "and, if you choose to persist in this matter, we'll try a fall together, and I'll pitch you afterwards into the bottomless lake."

As Rudolf suited the action to the word, by flourishing his fists and bounding towards him, Franz stepped aside in affright. He knew that the loss of an eye, an ear, or a nose, often resulted from these national combats; and his fear of Rudolf's prowess was such, that nothing short of death, to his belief, would ensue to him if he accepted the challenge. As for the bottomless lake,--which was a sullen piece of water in a neighbouring basin, reported to be fed by no springs and have no outlet for its waters; to be uninfluenced by the winds, and, when affronted by having anything cast into it, to blow up little tempests and thunder-storms of its own,--Franz had a profound horror of it, and was at this moment very unwillingly detained in its vicinity.

Therefore, succumbing before Rudolf at once, he querulously cried--

"Saints alive, man! what are you dreaming of? Who wants to be pitched into the bottomless lake? Not I, for one, I can tell you, this cold weather; and as for wrestling, I hope there are better ways of warming one's self than that. I don't care where you're going, not I,--rather you than me, on a January night! You take your course, and leave me alone to take mine; the mountain's free to us both, I suppose." Saying which, he walked off very fast.

Rudolf was terribly vexed. He was pretty sure that Franz was hunting for the Sandwirth, and on the right track, and would probably return and ferret it out. After a few minutes' painful thought, he resolved not to be instrumental to it, if he could help it; and therefore went considerably out of his way, in order that his footprints might lead Franz astray, if he endeavoured to follow the trail.

The worst of it was, that Rudolf thus lost not only time, but his way also. A good deal of snow had fallen since his former expedition, and altered the aspect of the ground, making that appear solid which was unsubstantial, and creating mounds and hillocks out of snowdrifts. Besides, it was growing dusk, and the worst part of his journey lay before him. He thought he recognised a rock, which he might reach by cutting across what looked like an inclined plane. All at once, he felt the snow give way beneath him--he sank with great swiftness into an abyss of great depth, and profoundly dark. He was not hurt--merely shaken by his fall; but his perturbation was extreme, and his first thought, be it said to his praise, was not of himself, but of Hofer. He would be starved to death! Who would ever know, till too late, that Rudolf had never reached him?

The extremity roused him. He began to grope about with his hands, but could feel nothing but rough stones, and, here and there, what felt and smelt like bones. Moving a little onward, he perceived a small speck of white afar off, which, it struck him, was daylight. His eyes, now getting accustomed to the intense darkness, could discern even the faint twilight which, through some fissure, thus attracted him. He cautiously advanced, found his prison resolve itself into some sort of deep cavern; and, advancing to its mouth, saw it guarded by two huge bears! They were looking forth from the cave, without moving, which gave him time to decide on his course before they saw or scented him. Hastily enveloping himself anew in the white garment, and securing his precious basket to him by his red sash, he took a large stone in each hand, and, uttering a fearful yell, rushed from his retreat, extending his white drapery high above his head.

The bears, who certainly had never beheld such an apparition before, moved off in seeming trepidation; and soon, mending their pace into a clumsy trot, retreated into a neighbouring ravine.[E]

Rudolf, right glad to have dispersed his foes, wandered on amid enormous masses of variously tinted glaciers,--some deep blue, others sea-green, others dirty yellow,--resounding with the hollow roar of unseen waters; and here and there he encountered the dead bodies of stags, and other animals, not in a state of decomposition, but preserved by the cold in a shrivelled condition, like mummies.

Presently the path became a mere shelf, and, turning abruptly, disclosed a wide reach of valley at a tremendous depth beneath.

An Englishman's head might have spun, but Rudolf began to scramble upwards by what might be called some giant steps; and as these occasioned him one or two ugly slips, he coolly took off his boots, cut his feet with a flint, and let the blood flow from them, that its stickiness might enable his feet to adhere to the rock with more tenacity.

He was presently stopped by a broad and deep ridge of snow, which he found, on sounding, was likely to prove as infirm as that which had deposited him in the bears' cavern. But the trickling of water beneath the ice had made a crevice between the rock and the snow-bank; and along this Rudolf squeezed himself sideways, till he emerged at the foot of a glacier, dirty yellow without, but blue as lapis lazuli within. He painfully climbed another ridge by a zigzag course, and on through a wild glen of dripping, dreary rocks; while the fitful wintry blasts, sounding like the flappings of mighty wings among the crags, alone broke the awful silence.

Night was closing round him; he took many false steps, and repeatedly sank in snow to his waist. He was beginning to feel something like despair, when, lo! in a little rocky cup just below him, there lay the châlet of Hofer!

He could not resist giving a glad hurra and a cheerful whistle, pretty sure that only the right people would hear him. The next minute, he was at the door, giving the concerted signal; and it was instantly opened by Hofer, with his wife peering anxiously over his shoulder, and Johann pressing closely to her side.

"Rudolf, my dear lad!" cried Hofer, embracing him. Anna embraced him too; and Johann, seeing the basket of provisions, began to cry with joy.

"Fie, Johann!" said his mother, cheerfully; "we are going to have a merry feasting, after all! Only think, Rudolf, this silly child thought we were going to starve!"

"A likely thing we would let you!" cried Rudolf. "Why, I'd eat my own fingers first. Come and see what a heap of good things there are in this basket Johann! Here are some sausages, to begin with; and a seasoned pie; and cheese--oh, what a cheese!"

"That's famous!" said Johann, hungrily; while his mother sought to appease him by immediately giving him something to eat.

A miserable little oil-lamp twinkled in the corner of the stable; there was a cattle-trough, plenty of hay and straw,--nothing more.

"And how goes it with you, Sandwirth?" said Rudolf, seizing his hand, as soon as he had secured the door.

"As well as may be, boy. A little down, of course, now and then, with so much leisure for thinking of the troubles I helped to bring on our poor country."

"Never think that, I pray you, Sandwirth! You tried to bring us out of them--and _did_. It was only that we were deserted by our natural liege-protectors."

"Well, lad, don't speak against the powers that be. If God had meant us to prosper, we should have done so. His ways are hidden; but they're always good. And our Franzel has written me a noble letter--"

"The Emperor!--_has_ he?" cried Rudolf.

"Aye, that he has," said Anna, leaving the basket to fetch the lamp; "do show it to him, Anderl."

"Why, how on earth did it reach you?"

"Eisenstecken knew this place," said Hofer. "He's at Vienna now, and he sent the letter here by a trusty hand--one who knew the mountains." As he spoke, he drew the letter from his bosom, and placed it in Rudolf's hand.

"Amazing!" said Rudolf, eagerly running through it, while Anna held the lamp to enable him to read. "Why, what prevents your accepting it?"

"What should make me accept it?" returned Hofer. "What should such an one as I do at Vienna? No, no!--where the tree was planted, there let it fall. My country has been much to me, and I've no mind to desert my country."

"Your countrymen burn to secure your safety. Dear Sandwirth, reconsider this!"

"My sole thought," said Hofer, calmly laying his hand on the young man's shoulder, "is how to make a good end."

Rudolf looked wistfully at him. He thought he seemed worn and wasted by anxiety and abstinence, and his heart ached for him.

"Come," said he, gaily, "let us have some supper before we talk any more of these matters. I'm hungry enough, I can tell you; and I have plenty of news of one sort and another."

"First about the dear children," said Anna, eagerly. "Theresa--"

"Theresa is an angel," said Rudolf, hastily. "My mother says she never knew any one to come up to her--so thoughtful, and yet so tender."

"Aye, that's just Theresa," said Hofer; "and a good daughter, Rudolf, will make a good wife, I fancy."

"Sandwirth! you won't go from your word?"

"A likely thing I should," said Hofer, heartily.

"Come, let's drink to her," said Rudolf, anxious to get Hofer to take some of the sustenance he so much needed.

A couple of horn cups were filled with brandy tempered with water, and handed round. Cold as the weather was, there was no fire; but they kept themselves warmly stowed among the trusses of hay. In a little while, they grew quite genial. Anna plunged the only knife into the savoury pie, and dispensed its contents. Rudolf told all the news and gossip he could think of, which was listened to with avidity by Anna, and rewarded by many a short laugh from the Sandwirth. Johann lay along on the straw, eating as if he never would be satiated, hearing all, and saying nothing,--quite content with the present moment, especially when, in honour of old customs, Rudolf sang a ballad, and the Sandwirth told a fairy-tale. The story was this:--

"A young man, who had a fine cherry-tree, laden with fruit, in his garden, had the fruit stolen year after year by the fairies. Not guessing who were the thieves, and anxious to detect the culprits, he one year strewed the ground all round about the cherry-tree with fine ashes, that he might see the pillagers' footprints. Now, the 'little folk,' though a beautiful race, have ugly little webbed feet, of which they are much ashamed; for which reason they wear very long garments. Well, the next morning, the young man got up, and went out to examine the cherry-tree, which he could see at a glance had been stripped during the night. On examining the ashes, he found them covered with the impressions of little webbed feet, as if a flock of geese had crossed them. He guessed the fairies to be the thieves; and they were so angry with him for detecting them, that, though they robbed his garden no more, his cherry-tree never bore fruit again."

Hour after hour, they continued talking; till Johann, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, crawled up to his straw-bed in the loft, which Rudolf was to share with him.

Rudolf, now that his friend was strengthened and refreshed, referred to the Emperor's letter, and earnestly pleaded with him that the offer of protection should be accepted. He dwelt on the state of Europe,--as far as anything was known of it in the Tyrol,--on the little probability there was that any good would result from continuing to hold out, or from awaiting another rising.

"The spring will come, and find you just where you are," continued he, "unless some degrees worse off. You will have no resource but to accept the Emperor's offer; for every old ruin of a castle in the Tyrol will continue to be garrisoned with French and Bavarian soldiers, who will have so little to do, that their commanders will pursue the search after you, by way of keeping them out of idleness. So, why not give in at once, when you may slip out of the country more safety than when the mountain passes can be again used by other than mountaineers? Your country, your religion demand that you should not throw away a life that may yet be eminently useful; and common sense shows that the most prudent care to take of it will be to quit the Tyrol."

"Ah, yes, listen to him, Anderl!" said Anna, earnestly; and the two argued and persuaded, till at length Hofer gave way, and consented to write to the Emperor, accepting the protection he had so lately declined, and asking for an escort.

Rudolf undertook to speed this missive to Vienna; and after some further talk, which carried them far into the night, he repaired to the loft, where he soon lay in dreamless sleep. The following morning, after another domestic council, and innumerable kind messages and promises exchanged, he, with hearty farewells, sped on his homeward route before it was yet light.