The father’s fear was natural—­he trembled for his son; the young man’s fear was cowardly—­he thought of self alone.  At last old Peter summoned up courage, and changed his position to a rock to which he could fix the rope; the young man then descended, and we all stood together.  Immediately we did so, I asked for the rope which had given way, and found, to my surprise—­indeed, to my horror—­that it was the weakest of the three ropes.  It was not brought, and should not have been employed, for the purpose for which it was used.  It was old rope, and, compared with the others, was feeble.  It was intended as a reserve, in case we had to leave much rope behind attached to rocks.  I saw at once that a serious question was involved, and made them give me the end.  It had broken in mid-air, and it did not appear to have sustained previous injury.

For more than two hours afterward I thought almost every moment that the next would be my last, for the Taugwalders, utterly unnerved, were not only incapable of giving assistance, but were in such a state that a slip might have been expected from them at any moment.  After a time we were able to do that which should have been done at first, and fixt rope to firm rocks, in addition to being tied together.  These ropes were cut from time to time, and were left behind.  Even with their assurance the men were afraid to proceed, and several times old Peter turned with ashy face and faltering limbs, and said with terrible emphasis, “I can not!”

About 6 P.M. we arrived at the snow upon, the ridge descending toward Zermatt, and all peril was over.  We frequently looked, but in vain, for traces of our unfortunate companions; we bent over the ridge and cried to them, but no sound returned.  Convinced at last that they were within neither sight nor hearing, we ceased from our useless efforts, and, too cast down for speech, silently gathered up our things, preparatory to continuing the descent.

When lo! a mighty arch appeared, rising above the Lyskamm high into the sky.  Pale, colorless and noiseless, but perfectly sharp and defined, except where it was lost in the clouds, this unearthly apparition seemed like a vision from another world, and almost appalled we watched with amazement the gradual development of two vast crosses, one on either side.  If the Taugwalders had not been the first to perceive it, I should have doubted my senses.  They thought it had some connection with the accident, and I, after a while, that it might bear some relations to ourselves.  But our movements had no effect upon it.  The spectral forms remained motionless.  It was a fearful and wonderful sight, unique in my experience, and impressive beyond description, at such a moment....

Night fell, and for an hour the descent was continued in the darkness.  At half-past nine a resting-place was found, and upon a wretched slab, barely large enough to hold three, we passed six miserable hours.  At daybreak the descent was resumed, and from the Hornli ridge we ran down to the chalets of Buhl and on to Zermatt.  Seiler met me at his door, and followed in silence to my room:  “What is the matter?” “The Taugwalders and I have returned.”  He did not need more, and burst into tears, but lost no time in lamentations, and set to work to arouse the village.