“You are my Guide,” said Vendale, good humouredly.  “I trust to you.”

“I am your Guide,” said Obenreizer, “and I will guide you to your journey’s end.  There is the Bridge before us.”

They had made a turn into a desolate and dismal ravine, where the snow lay deep below them, deep above them, deep on every side.  While speaking, Obenreizer stood pointing at the Bridge, and observing Vendale’s face, with a very singular expression on his own.

“If I, as Guide, had sent you over there, in advance, and encouraged you to give a shout or two, you might have brought down upon yourself tons and tons and tons of snow, that would not only have struck you dead, but buried you deep, at a blow.”

“No doubt,” said Vendale.

“No doubt.  But that is not what I have to do, as Guide.  So pass silently.  Or, going as we go, our indiscretion might else crush and bury me.  Let us get on!”

There was a great accumulation of snow on the Bridge; and such enormous accumulations of snow overhung them from protecting masses of rock, that they might have been making their way through a stormy sky of white clouds.  Using his staff skilfully, sounding as he went, and looking upward, with bent shoulders, as it were to resist the mere idea of a fall from above, Obenreizer softly led.  Vendale closely followed.  They were yet in the midst of their dangerous way, when there came a mighty rush, followed by a sound as of thunder.  Obenreizer clapped his hand on Vendale’s mouth and pointed to the track behind them.  Its aspect had been wholly changed in a moment.  An avalanche had swept over it, and plunged into the torrent at the bottom of the gulf below.

Their appearance at the solitary Inn not far beyond this terrible Bridge, elicited many expressions of astonishment from the people shut up in the house.  “We stay but to rest,” said Obenreizer, shaking the snow from his dress at the fire.  “This gentleman has very pressing occasion to get across; tell them, Vendale.”

“Assuredly, I have very pressing occasion.  I must cross.”

“You hear, all of you.  My friend has very pressing occasion to get across, and we want no advice and no help.  I am as good a guide, my fellow-countrymen, as any of you.  Now, give us to eat and drink.”

In exactly the same way, and in nearly the same words, when it was coming on dark and they had struggled through the greatly increased difficulties of the road, and had at last reached their destination for the night, Obenreizer said to the astonished people of the Hospice, gathering about them at the fire, while they were yet in the act of getting their wet shoes off, and shaking the snow from their clothes: 

“It is well to understand one another, friends all.  This gentleman—­”

“—­Has,” said Vendale, readily taking him up with a smile, “very pressing occasion to get across.  Must cross.”