St. Winifred's; or, The World of School

by F. W. Farrar

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

  IN THE CLOUDS.

  The three boys scrambled with all their speed, Walter helping the othertwo down the vast primeval heap of many-tinted rock-fragments which formthe huge summit of Appenfell, and found themselves again on the shortslippery grass, hardened with recent frosts, that barely covered thewave-like sweep of the hill-side. Meanwhile, the vast dense masses ofwhite cloud gathered below them, resting here and there in the hollowsof the mountains like gigantic walls and bastions, and leaning againstthe abrupter face of the precipice in one great unbroken barrier ofopaque, immaculate, impenetrable pearl. As you looked upon it the chiefimpression it gave you was one of immense thickness and crushing weight.It seemed so compressed and impermeable that one could not fancy howeven a thunderbolt could shatter it, or the wildest blast of anyhurricane dissipate its enormous depth. But as yet it had not envelopedthe peaks themselves. On them the sun yet shone, and where the boysstood they were still bathed in the keen yet blue and sunny air,islanded far up above the noiseless billows of surging cloud.

  This was not for long. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the cloudsstole upon them--reached out white arms and enfolded them in suddenwhirls of thin and smoke-like mist; eddied over their heads and roundtheir feet; swathed them at last as in a funeral pall, blotting fromtheir sight every object save wreaths of dank vapour, rendering whollyuncertain the direction in which they were moving, and giving a sense ofdoubt and danger to every step they took. Kenrick had only told themaster who had given them leave of absence from dinner that they meantto go a long walk. He had not mentioned Appenfell, not from any want ofstraightforwardness, but because they thought that it might sound like avainglorious attempt, and they did not want to talk about it until theyhad really accomplished it. But in truth if they had mentioned this astheir destination, no wise master would have given them permission togo, unless they promised to be accompanied by a guide; for the ascent ofAppenfell, dangerous even in summer to all but those who well knew thefeatures of the mountain, became in winter a perilous and foolhardyattempt. The boys themselves, when they started on their excursion, hadno conception of the amount or extent of the risk they ran. Seeing thatthe morning gave promises of a bright and clear day, they had neverthought of taking into account the possibility of mists and storms.

  The position in which they now found themselves was enough to make astout heart quail. By this time they were hopelessly enveloped inpalpable clouds, and could not see the largest objects a yard beforethem. In fact, even to see each other they had to keep closely side byside; for once, when Kenrick had separated from them for a littledistance, it was only by the sound of his shouts that they found himagain. After this, they crept on in perfect silence, each trying toconceal from the other the terror which lay like frost on his ownspirits; unsuccessfully, for the tremulous sound which the quickpalpitation of their hearts gave to their breathing showed plainlyenough that all three of them recognised the frightfulness of theirdanger.

  Appenfell was one of those mountains, not unfrequent, which is on oneside abrupt and bounded by a wall of almost fathomless precipice, and onthe other descends to the plain in a cataract of billowy undulations.It had one feature which, although peculiar, is by no meansunprecedented. At one point, where the huge rock wall towers up fromthe ghastly depth of a broad ravine, there is a lateral ridge--notunlike the Mickeldore of Scawfell Pikes--running right across thevalley, and connecting Appenfell with Bardlyn, another hill of muchlower elevation, towards which this ridge runs down with a long butgradual slope. This edge was significantly called the Razor, and it wasso narrow that it would barely admit the passage of a single personalong its summit. It was occasionally passed by a few shepherds,accustomed from earliest childhood to the hills, but no ordinarytraveller ever dreamed of braving its real dangers, for, even had thepath been broader, the horrible depth of fall on either side was quitesufficient to render dizzy the steadiest head, and if a false step weretaken, the result, to an absolute certainty, was frightful death. Forso nearly perpendicular were the sides of this curious partition, thatthe narrow valley below, offering no temptation to any one to visit it,had not, within the memory of man, been trodden by any human foot. Toadd to the honour inspired by the Razor, a shepherd had recently fallenfrom it in a summer storm; his body had been abandoned as unrecoverable,and the ravens and wild cats had fed upon him. Something--a dim gleamof uncertain white among the rank grass--was yet visible from one pointof the ledge, and the bravest mountaineer shuddered when, looking downthe gloomy chasm, he recognised in that glimpse the mortal remains of afellow-man.

  "Are you sure that we are on the right path, Walter?" asked Power,trying to speak as cheerfully and indifferently as he could.

  "Certain," said Walter, pulling out of his pocket the little brasspocket-compass which had been his invariable companion in his rambles athome, and which he had fortunately brought with him as likely to beuseful in the lonely tracts which surrounded Saint Winifred's. "The baylies due west from here, and I'm sure of the _general_ direction."

  "But I think we're keeping too much to the right, Walter," said Kenrick.

  "Look here," said Walter, stopping; "the truth is--and we may just aswell be ready for it--that we're between two dangers. On the right isBardlyn rift; on the left we have the sides of Appenfell, and noprecipices, but--"

  "I know what you're thinking of--the old mines."

  "Yes; that's why I've been keeping to the right. I think even in thismist we could hardly go over the rift, for I fancy that we could atleast discover when we were getting close to it; but there are three orfour old mines; we don't knew in the least where they lie exactly, andone might stumble over one of the shafts in a minute."

  "What in the world shall we do?" said Power, stopping, as he realisedthe full intensity of peril. "As it is we can't see where we're going,and very soon we shall have darkness as well as mist. Besides, it's sofrightfully cold, now that we are obliged to go slowly."

  "Let's stop and consider what we'd best do," said Kenrick. "Walter,what do _you_ say?"

  "We can only do one of two things. Either go on, and trust to God'smercy to keep us safe, or sit still here and hope that the mist mayclear away."

  "That last'll never do," answered Kenrick; "I've seen the mist rest onAppenfell for days and days."

  "Besides," said Power, "unless we move on, at all hazards, night will beon us. A December night on Appenfell, without food or extra coverings,and the chance of being kept indefinitely longer--" the sentence endedin a shudder.

  "Yes; I don't know what we should look like in the morning," saidKenrick. "Let's move on, at all events; better that than the chance ofbeing frozen and starved to death."

  They moved on again a little way through the clouds with uncertain andhesitating steps, when suddenly Walter cried out in an agitated voice,"Stop! God only knows where we are. I feel by a kind of instinct thatwe're somewhere near the rift. I don't know what else should make metremble all over as I am doing; I seem to _hear_ the rift somehow. ForGod's sake stop. Just let's sit down a minute till I try something."

  "But's it's now nearly four o'clock," said Kenrick in a querulous tone,as he halted and pulled out his watch, holding it close to his face tomake out the time. "An hour more and all daylight will be gone, andwith it all chance of being saved. Surely, we'd better press on.That's _uncertain_ danger, but to stop is certain--"

  "Certain death," whispered Power.

  "Just listen then, one second," said Walter, and, disembedding a hugepiece of stone, he rolled it with all his force to their right,listening with senses acutely sharpened by danger and excitement. Thestone bounded once, then they heard in their ears a rush, a shuffling ofloose and sliding earth, the whirring sound of a heavy falling body, andthen for several seconds a succession of distant crashes, startling withfright the rebounding mountain echoes, as the bit of rock whirled overthe rift and was shattered into fragments by being dashed against thesides of the precipice.


  "Good God!" cried Walter, clutching both the boys and dragging themhurriedly backwards, "we are standing at this moment on the very vergeof the chasm. It won't do to go on; every step may be death."

  A pause of almost unspeakable horror followed his words; after the fallof the rock had revealed to them how frightful was the peril which theyhad escaped, all three of them for a moment felt paralysed in everylimb, and after looking close into each other's faces, blanched white bya deadly fear, Kenrick and Power sat down in an agony of despair.

  "Don't give way, you fellows," said Walter, to whom they both seemed tolook for help; "our only chance is to keep up our hope and spirits. Ithink that, after all, we must just stay here till the mist clears up.Don't be frightened, Ken," he said, taking the boy's hand; "nothing canhappen to us but what God intends."

  "But the night," whispered Kenrick, who was most overpowered of thethree; "fancy a night spent here. Mist and cold, hunger and dark. Othis horrible uncertainty and suspense. O for some light," he cried inan agony; "I could almost die if we had but light."

  "O God, give us light," murmured Walter, echoing the words, and utteringaloud unconsciously his intense prayer; and then he fell on his knees,and the others, too, hid their faces in their hands as they stood uponthe bleak mountainside, and prayed to Him Whom they knew to be nearthem, though they were there alone, and saw nothing save the ground theyknelt upon, and the thick clammy fog moving slowly around and above themin aimless and monotonous change. To their excited imagination that fogseemed like a living thing; it seemed as though it were actuated with acold and deathful determination, and as though it were peopled by athousand silent spirits, leaning over them and chilling their hearts asthey shrouded them in the gigantic foldings of their ghostly robes.

  And soon, as though their passionate prayer had been heard, and an angelhad been sent to rend the mist, the wind, rushing up from the ravine,tore for itself a narrow passage--and a gleam of wavering light broke inupon them through the white folds of that deathful curtain, showing themthe wall of sunken precipice, and the dark outline of Bardlyn hill. Ifthis had been a moment in which they could have admired one of Nature'smost awfully majestic sights, they would have gazed with enthusiasticjoy on the diorama of valley and mountain revealed through this mightyrent in the side of their misty pavilion, filled up by the blue far-offsky; but at this moment of dominant terror they had no room for anyother thoughts but how to save their lives from the danger that,surrounded them.

  "Light," cried Walter, springing up eagerly; "thank God! Perhaps themist is going to clear away." But the hope was fallacious, for in thedirection where their path lay all was still dark, and the chilly mistsoon closed again, though not so densely, over the wound which thebreeze from the chasm below them had momentarily made.

  "Did you see that we are _close to the Razor_?" said Walter, who aloneof the three maintained his usual courage, because custom had made himmore familiar with the danger of the hills. "Now, a thought strikes me,Ken and Power. If you like we'll make an attempt to cross the Razor.The only thing will be not to lose one's footing; one can't _miss_ theway, at any rate, and when once we get to Bardlyn it's as easy to getdown to the road which runs round it to Saint Winifred's as it is towalk across the school court."

  "Cross the Razor?" said Kenrick; "why, none but some few shepherds everdare to do that."

  "True, but what man has done, man can do. I'm certain it's our bestchance."

  "Not for me;" "Or for me," said the other two. "Well, look here," saidWalter; "it would be very dangerous of course, but while we talk ourchance of safety lessens. You two stay here. I'll try the Razor; if Iget safe across I shall reach Bardlyn village in no time, and there Icould get some men to come and help you over. Do you mind? I won'tleave you if you'd rather not."

  "Oh, Walter, Walter, don't run the risk," said Power; "it's too awful."

  "It's lighter than ever on that side," said Walter; "I'm not a bitafraid. I'm certain we could not get safe down, the other way, and weshould die of exposure if we spent the night here. Remember, we've onlyhad one or two sandwiches apiece. It's the last chance."

  "Oh, no, you really shan't, dear Walter. You don't know how terrificthe Razor is. I've often heard men say that they wouldn't cross it fora bag of gold," said Power.

  "Don't hinder me, Power; I've made up my mind. Good-bye, Power;good-bye, Ken," he said, wringing their hands hard. "If I get safeacross the Razor, I shan't be more than an hour and a half at the verylatest before I stand here with you again, bringing help. Good-bye; Godbless you both. Pray for me, but don't fear."

  So saying, Walter tore himself away from them, and with an awful sinkingat heart they saw him pass through the spot where the mist was thinnest,and plant a steady step on the commencement of the Razor path.