The shriek of Minnie and the driver’s cry of despair were both stopped abruptly by the rush of snow, and were smothered in the heap under which they were buried.  The whole party stood paralyzed, gazing stupidly downward where the avalanche was hurrying on to the abyss, bearing with it the ill-fated Minnie.  The descent was a slope of smooth snow, which went down at an angle of forty-five degrees for at least a thousand feet.  At that point there seemed to be a precipice.  As their aching eyes watched the falling mass they saw it approach this place, and then as it came near the whole avalanche seemed to divide as though it had been severed by some projecting rock.  It divided thus, and went to ruin; while in the midst of the ruin they saw the sled, looking like a helpless boat in the midst of foaming breakers.  So, like such a helpless boat, it was dashed forward, and shot out of sight over the precipice.

Whither had it gone?  Into what abyss had it fallen?  What lay beneath that point over which it had been thrown?  Was it the fierce torrent that rolled there, or were there black rocks and sharp crags lying at the foot of the awful precipice?  Such were the questions which flashed through every mind, and deepened the universal horror into universal despair.

In the midst of this general dismay Ethel was the first to speak and to act.  She started to her feet, and looking back, called in a loud voice: 

“Go down after her!  A thousand pounds to the man who saves her!  Quick!”

At this the drivers came forward.  None of them could understand English, and so had not comprehended her offer; but they saw by her gestures what she wanted.  They, however, did not seem inclined to act.  They pointed down, and pointed up, and shook their heads, and jabbered some strange, unintelligible patois.

“Cowards!” cried Ethel, “to leave a young girl to die.  I will go down myself.”

And then, just as she was, she stepped from the sled, and paused for a moment, looking down the slope as though selecting a place.  Lady Dalrymple and Mrs. Willoughby screamed to her to come back, and the drivers surrounded her with wild gesticulations.  To all this she paid no attention whatever, and would certainly have gone down in another moment had not a hand been laid on her arm, and a voice close by her said, with a strong foreign accent,

“Mees!”

She turned at once.

It was the foreign gentleman who had been driving behind the party.  He had come up and had just reached the place.  He now stood before her with his hat in one hand and the other hand on his heart.

“Pardon, mees,” he said, with a bow.  “Eet is too periloss.  I sail go down eef you ’low me to mak ze attemp.”

“Oh, monsieur,” cried Ethel, “save her if you can!”

“Do not fear.  Be calm.  I sall go down.  Nevare mine.”