"Take care, monsieur," cried Michel.
Chayne paid no heed. Coming up from behind on the left-hand side, he
passed his guide and took the lead. He could tell now what the dark
object was, for every now and then a breath of wind caught it and whirled
it about the ice. It was a hat. He raised his ax to slice a step and a
gust of wind, stronger than the others, lifted the hat, sent it rolling
and skipping down the glacier, lifted it again and gently dropped it at
his feet. He stooped down and picked it up. It was a soft broad-brimmed
hat of dark gray felt. In the crown there was the name of an English
maker. There was something more too. There were two initials--J.L.
Chayne turned to Michel Revailloud.
"You were right, Michel," he said, solemnly. "My friend has made the
first passage of the Col des Nantillons from the East."
The party moved forward again, watching with redoubled vigilance for some
spot in the glacier, some spot above a crevasse, to which ice-steps
descended and from which they did not lead down. And three hundred yards
beyond a second cry rang out. A guide was standing on the lower edge of a
great crevasse with a hand upheld above his head. The searchers converged
quickly upon him. Chayne hurried forward, plying the pick of his ax as
never in his life had he plied it. Had the guide come upon the actual
place where the accident took place, he asked himself? But before he
reached the spot, his pace slackened, and he stood still.
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