Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 117: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

as” 108 I struck savagely at the opposite wail of the crevasse. I cut a cranny and thrust the point of my axe handle in it. Then leaning on the head I hung out over the depths, my shoulders almost half way across the cleft. There was a jerk as the sharp point snapped through ‘the brittle support. My head plunged forward, hitting with tremendous force the smooth, blue sur- face beyond me. A thousand stars and planets flashed before my eyes, spreading from a core of foaming light. Then swart and sud-_ den as the night closes over, a tropical lightning flash followed darkness and insensibility. * a * I blinked curiously, groping with owl-like eyes in the gray green light that swathed me. Before me rose a slope of ice—a gleaming hill blue with the cold azure of undying frost. The smooth surface shone duskily ; the twilight fell upon it from above in uncertain patches. Behind and above me was a curtain-like overshadowment of rock. To my right rose the columns and porticoes of a building, shaded and deepening into blackness where the cloistered frontage retreated into the background. Close to my head, rising with gentle gradient from the pebbly fioor, was a paved ascent to the main door of the building. To the left was a dark emptiness and bell-like out of the hollow distance came the tinkle of run- ning water. A few yards away lay a man’s form— face to earth and still. The forehead leaned upon the forearm; the other hand was stretched abroad, as if grasp- ing an unseen hold. The whole body had the pose of death as we find it when met with suddenness. In the tired apathy that follows a great shock, I stared upon it wearily— unthinking, unreasoning, seeing some- thing of familiarity, but with listless in- ability to follow the crude remembranc- ing of my brain. ok THE ARGOSY. As intelligence grew slowly back to me I struggled weakly and sat up. It was as in a long forgotten and half re- membered vision that I knew Gerry's ‘brown shooting jacket and his greasy field boots. With Yurther recognition memory began to ooze back. Gerry had been upon the glacier with me. And Garlicke. And my flask. Gerry had wanted the flask. Well, he couldn’t have it now. I’d lost it. I tried wretchedly to remember how or where. Why, of course! that was what Garlicke had taken. That ice hill, now, over there—just like the toboggan slide at Toronto two winters ago. I wondered if old Jim Paleriste was still aide. No; seen him in town since. Then there was that sweet little—— Oh, my God! Gerry had fallen in— fallen in—and I listened—and the tern had shrieked just as I thought I heard something. Well, that was Gerry— must be—snoozing away over there on his face. And that building? Well Why, of course, this was a dream. There was that absurd beast. That was part of a dream. Why on earth couldn’t I wake myself. Baines would bring my hot water directly. Beastly unpleasant; just as well to know it was adream. I’d have another wink or two. Confounded wet and cold—and by Jove! cord breeches on. In bed. And blood upon them. Ouf! how my shoul- der hurt. A huge drop splashed from the root upon my forehead. At the touch of the cold water, sud- denly as the sunbeams rend the sea mist, my senses leaped back to me, and dread—sickening dread—took posses- sion of my heart. I stared across intently at Gerry’s rigid limbs. So we had fallen together into the depths—into the cold that kills. He was dead, no doubt; a little struggle against the numbing cold, and I too should pass into the land beyond for- getfulness. We had found the ninth circle of the lost. ; CONRniUCOOOKS. EON