Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 25, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 1 October 1898 — THE GLACIER’S KEEPING. [ARTICLE]

THE GLACIER’S KEEPING.

<< A PRETTY lougli climb, isn’t Z\ it, Max?” The speaker was a tall Englishman of perhaps 50, but looking as hard and tough and generally fit as most men of half his age. “Yes, sir.” said-the guide, who stood before him at the inn door; ‘ and we’ll have to start early if we are to get back the same day.” Sir Robert Ballard turned and reentered the room. From a desk he pulled out a sheet of paper, and picking up a pen, sat down at a .table and began a letter. “My dear Harry,” he wrote, “I'm afraid I have not been quite fair to you. Thinking over things again I can •ee that your l'oollah pranks, which so much offended me, may have been— Indeed, no doubt were —the results of sheer youthful high spirits. I am, therefore, again altering my will and Instead of my cousin James Rennie being my residuary legatee*, you will And the bulk of my property will eventually come to you and that you will grow up a man worthy of the trust I am reposing in you. Your affectionate uncle, “ROBERT BALLARD.” Sir Robert sealed and stamped the letter anti then on a sheet of foolscap piroeeeded rapidly and with businesslike precision to redrauglit his will. It seemed an easy enough matter and took but a very few minutes. You would hardly have Imagined the amount in question was something like £BO,OOO or £90,000. The rapid pen ceased flying over the paper and Sir Robert touched the bell. “Call Max Schneider,” he said to the waiter, “and you, too, come in; I want you to witness this signature for me." He signed the document, the two men affixed their signatures, and then be folded It, placed It in an envelope and slipped it into an inner pocket of his Norfolk jacket. “What time do we start to morrow, Max?” he asked. “Not later than half-past three sir," answered the guide. “Very well, then. I sliall go to bed at,once, and I suppose you’ll do the same,” then to the waiter: “Mind, you call me sharp at 3. Good-night” 11. “Great luck having such lovely weather—eh, Max?” “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 wjtb himself. Indeed he had reason to be pleased. Very few men had ever climbed the beetling dills of the Aiguille Vert at ait Fewer 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 the air, chill with approaching night, was no longer clear ns It had been. Pale wreaths of smoky mist hung In light hands, which seemed to shift and change kaleidoseopieally, 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 waa broken by a hundred deep rifts and lumpy, yawning crevasses. closed and fell thicker and thicker. Some three hours later that niglu one of the guides buret Into the kitchen of the Mont vert Inn. Hit face was white and drawn, and be waa almoat speechless with excitement, misery and fgtigue. At last he managed to grasp out his

was leadlog *e party; how next be had been jerked off hl» feet by a tremendoun pull at the rape round M» waist, and how he-had desperately saved himself by driving his alpensrtick Into the Ice. Next thing he knew he was alone--alone on the edge of a giant crevasse, whose misty depths yawned silent as a grave. The Instant they understood him • rescue party was formed, under the guidance of Herman, the Innkeeper. All night the devoted man worked and most of the next day. But it win useless.* The glacier does not easily give up Us prey.

111. 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 bad been looking out for a chance to accompany a reading party abroad during the long vacation and by good luck 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-leader to his son, young Edward Ffolkes, during a forthcoming Swiss tour. He had always wanted to get abroad and now the chances had fallen his way he was resolved to make the most of it Young Everard, his pupil, was a thoroughly nice lad, and the whole expedition seemed to partake more of the nature of a holiday than serious work. The two trudged afoot through lovely valleys, up turf-clad slopes, 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. lie told the boy of the fate of his uncle. Sir Robert Ballard. ‘•Yes, I remember of hearing of that when I was quite small,” answered Everard sympathetically. “Were the bodies ever recovered?” “No, never," said Harry, “and probably never will l>e.” * They walked In silence a little way. Then Harry said: “Do you know, Everard, I should like rather to see the place. Suppose we go up to Montvert? We can do it in two days from Chamounix. Your father put no restriction on our movements.”

“Then let’s go," replied the boy, keenly. Montvert had become quite a fashionable resort within the last few yoars. The old Inn had been much enlarged. It boasted all sorts of modern improvements - among them a drawing room, a band and a visitors’ book. The latter Harry was studying, when he was startled by the names: “Mr. James Rennie and Miss Rennie and maid, Glasgow.” "My cousins, by Jove!” he muttered. He had seen nothing of them for years—not since Mr. Rennie had come in for all of Sir Robert’s money. The daughter Muriel he had never seen. James Rennie he knew by repute as a rather hard and canny Scotchman, and here they were staying at the same hotel. They met that evening' in the drawing room. “And this is my daughter, Muriel,” Rennie said.

Harry looked up and saw a soft dot of a girl in a black evening gown, who gave him a warm. Impulsive handshake. Somehow Harry and his charge stayed on at Montvert for a whole nightHarry was a new man. The inevitable was happening. Only the poor fellow had not realized it. Each successive day was plunging him more deeply in love with his cousin's daughter. Then the Rennies gave a picnic. It turned out a brilliant sunny day and it was decided to go up the valley to a wood near the lower end of the Aiguille Vert glacier. It was at this picnic it for the first time struck Mr. Rennie that Harry was a trifle more attentive to Muriel than there was any occasion for. He did not say anything; but he made up his mind to two things. First, to watch the young couple pretty carefully that day; secondly, to leave Montvert to-morrow. Harry and Muriel slipped off amongst the trees and soon found themselves quite alone they strolled down to where from under its arch of muddy ice the glacier river started on its foamy career, and seated themselves near by on a great mossy stone under a pine tree. The blazing sun made the shade most welcome and the two sat there quietly drinkiDg in the warm soent of the woods. “I’m afraid our holiday will be soon over,” she said. “We have to be home by the first of October.” Harry experienced a curious shock. With extraordinary suddenness he realized what life would be without Muriel. * “Jluriel,” he said, quickly and earnestly—“ Muriel, Will you care?” Apparently she did, for when, five minutes later, an interested spectator walked quledy up behind them over the carpet of noiseless pin-needles, he saw a sight that made his smooth face wrinkle with rage. The two cousins were sitting closer together than strict cousinsbip altogether entailed, and Muriel's head was leaning oil Harry's shoulder. James Ronnie lost his temper. “You sncakijjg < young scoundrel!” said be, advancing toward them. Muriel turned in astonisbmrtit and Harry rose very quietly. There was a dangerous gleam in hte eye. “You were sayings—" “That you are a scheming fortune hunter. Your uncle out you off and now you think te regain the money in a low, underhand way by marrying mv <inuirhtor' M | brash! A sharp rending sound, fol-

lowed by a heavy fall, made ■w A great piece Of ice, loosened by the heat had fallen away from the glaeiar end, and (something else —something dark and soft had slipped from the broken mass and lay limply on the debris below. « For a moment no one moved. Then Harry stepped forward, and stood by the fallen figure. The others followed. It was the body of a man. He was dressed in rough tweeds and bis upturned face had a quiet, peaceful expression,. He might have died an hour ago. Instinctively the men removed their hats. Then Harry looked at Mr. Rennie. “You know who It Is?” he asked. “Yes, it’s Sir Robert,” he answered, In a low voice. They picked up the body and lifted It into the shade of the pines. As they did so a folded paper fell from the torn Jacket. That evening Harry met Muriel In the hotel garden. “Your father has told you what Vt was lie found?” he asked. “Yes; dear,” she answered. “And he ■told me, too, about your suggestion. Harry, you are very generous, and do you know, father appreciates it.” “I’m glad he doesn't think badly of me any longer, darling,” said Harry; “but you know we shall be rich on half the money, shan’t we?” Muriel’s answer quite satisfied him. —Omaha Bee.