Harper's Young People, May 16, 1882 An Illustrated Weekly

THE SCARLET GLOW.

BY PERCY EARL.

"I wish I could take you both with me," said Mr. Hanway, as he kissed his children good-by, and stepped into the carriage that was to bear him up among the mountains on a visit to an old friend; "but Fletcher here will take good care of you, Amy, and I am sure neither of you will forget what I've told you about keeping away from the boats."

Fletcher was ten and Amy eight, and the two, with their father, who was a widower, were stopping at a cozy little hotel on the shores of a lovely lake in Switzerland.

It was only on very rare occasions that Mr. Hanway permitted himself to be separated from his children during their travels abroad, but as the hotel where they had now been staying for nearly a week was a very home-like one, and as he expected to be back in time for supper, he felt that he could safely leave them to amuse themselves for a few hours.

Thus cast upon their own resources, the brother and sister read story-books and played in-door games until dinner-time. At the table were some American tourists just from the summit of the highest mountain in the place, and to their lively descriptions of the views to be had therefrom, and of the pretty nooks scattered all over it, both children listened with eager ears, and when one of the young ladies held up a bunch of "just the loveliest wild flowers" which she had gathered by the road-side, Amy whispered to her brother that she really must go a little way up that very afternoon.

"But papa isn't here to take us," objected Fletcher, who longed to go as much as his sister, although he was old enough to understand that his father would not like to have them leave the hotel in his absence.

"Papa didn't tell us we mustn't climb mountains--only boats," returned Amy, cunningly. "And, besides, didn't he say you could take care of me? and don't you think you can?" and the artful little tease looked up at her stout young brother with a most confiding air.

Under these circumstances, what could Fletcher reply but that he was most certainly able to protect her, and that he would do so for a little way, a very little way, up the mountain, as they must be sure to be at the hotel when father came back.

Greatly delighted at having gained her point, Amy ran off for her hat as soon as dessert was over, and having stuffed a paper of candy into her pretty little arm-basket, announced herself ready. And then the two set out, Fletcher, with his alpenstock, leading the way up through the town, on by the winding path through the woods, up, up, until the beautiful lake came into view below them.

"Let's rest here a minute," proposed Fletcher. "This flat rock'll make a nice seat; and while we eat some candy, I'll teach you the names of the snow mountains over yonder."

So the expedition halted while the captain pointed out what he thought was Mont Blanc, the king of all the peaks; the beautiful Jungfrau, with its silver horn, and--But turning to see if Amy was looking in the right direction, Fletcher found her eyes closed, and her head just sinking to his shoulder.

"Poor little thing, she's tired out. I'll let her have a short nap before we start down again." So, while Amy slept, her brother ate chocolate drops and studied the Alps.

Now it would have been quite romantic and Babes-in-the-Woodsy if he too had been overcome with drowsiness, thus leaving them both lying there asleep on the mountain-side until an elf, giant, or some other rarely seen creature, came to wake them up and conduct them to a wonderful grotto, studded with diamonds and paved with pearls. But as this is not a fairy tale, nothing of the sort occurred, for Amy presently woke up of her own accord, and finding the basket empty, recollected what she had come for, upon which the two began searching for wild flowers.

At first Fletcher rather affected to despise the occupation, but after they had gathered a few, he found them so pretty, and it grew to be so exciting to wonder where they would chance upon some more, that he speedily became as absorbed in the hunt as Amy herself, and both wandered over the mountain in every direction.

At last the pretty little basket was filled to the top with still prettier contents, and at the same time Fletcher noticed that the sun was very near the tip of one of the snow mountains.

"Come, Amy," he exclaimed, "we must hurry back, or papa'll be there before us;" and taking her by the hand, he set out for the path by which they had ascended.

"But why can't we go down right here?" asked Amy. "It'll be such fun to go sort o' sliding down hill."

"I guess we needn't slide," returned Fletcher, "for here's a kind of path we can take; so now hold on to me tight, and be careful not to slip;" and down the two started over the rough way, for the mountain-side was covered with stones, little and big, which the feet of the children sent rolling and crashing on ahead of them in quite a noisy fashion.

With each advancing step the path grew fainter and fainter, until it finally disappeared entirely, and nothing was to be seen but trees and rocks and stones.

"Shall we go back, Amy?" asked Fletcher, as they both came to a halt; and then he added: "But no, we haven't time; so we must keep on."

"All right; but you don't think there are any snakes under these stones, do you, Flet?"

Then they went on down again, but the way grew ever rougher and rougher, and the stones slipped from under their tired feet more and more frequently.

"Oh dear! ain't we 'most there?" half sobbed Amy, as she stubbed her toe against a rock in front of her, while a stone rolled down on her heel from behind.

"I guess so. Shall I try to lift you over this place? See, there must have been a brook here in the spring;" and Fletcher pointed out a shallow ravine that crossed their path obliquely, and which was choked with stones and brush-wood.

Without waiting for an answer, the kind-hearted boy threw his alpenstock across, and then picking Amy up in his arms, started over himself. He reached the opposite side in safety, and was about to step up to level ground again when his foot caught under a stone, and in trying to keep his sister from being harmed by his fall, he left no hand free with which to save himself.

"Oh, Flet, are you hurt?" cried Amy, as she quickly scrambled to her feet.

"Not much; only my ankle." But the "not much" proved to be a sprain serious enough to prevent his walking a step, and after attempting to do so once or twice, the brave little fellow was forced to fall back upon the rocks, with an expression of pain which he could not repress.

And now the children's situation became quite a grave one. They were as yet, as well as they could judge, a mile or more above the town, the sun had already vanished behind the snowy peaks opposite, the autumn twilight was rapidly closing in, and, worse than all, Fletcher could not and Amy would not move.

"How can I go away and leave you here?" she would say when urged to hurry back, so that father should not worry.

"But I'm all right as long as I sit still," her brother would reply. "Besides, the sooner you go and tell them at the hotel, the quicker they can send somebody up for me."

At length, convinced that under the circumstances this was the wisest thing to do, Amy set bravely out, but had not proceeded more than twenty feet before she came screaming back, declaring she had seen a snake, and that she could never, never go on through the dreadful woods alone.

"Let me stay with you, Flet," she begged. "I'm sure when papa misses us he'll come right up here;" and her brother, seeing she had no doubts on this point, thought it best not to remind her that it was just as natural to suppose that he would look in a dozen other directions for them first.

So the two sat together there on the mountain-side, watching the stars come out, and wondering if this was their punishment for being naughty.

But presently Amy's eyelids grew heavy again, and leaning her head against Fletcher, she asked him to wake her "as soon as papa comes," when suddenly a reddish glare flashed forth out of the darkness beneath them; portions of mountain and lake appeared distinctly as by day, while trees and rocks and bushes stood revealed in startling vividness.

"Oh, what is it, Flet?" cried Amy, hiding her face in terror.

"Don't be afraid," he answered. "I guess it can't hurt us, whatever it is."

Still the boy had dreadful visions of earthquakes and volcanoes, which he somehow imagined were much more common in Europe than in America.

And now the red light had changed to green, this in turn to blue, then back to red again, and so on, until the brother and sister became completely mystified.

On a sudden, while the red glare lit up everything around, there was a sound of rolling stones, a man's voice exclaimed, "Thank God for St. Jacques!" The next instant Mr. Hanway's strong arms were about both his children.