So they retraced
their steps upward to find some other way down. After having clambered
up the snowfield a long time and then continuing along an even ridge,
they found it to be as before: either the snow sloped so steeply that
they would have fallen, or it ascended so that they feared it would lead
to the very peak of the mountain. And thus it continued to be.
Then they had the idea of finding the direction from which they had come
and of descending to the red post. As it is not snowing and the sky is
bright, thought the boy, they should be able, after all, to see the spot
where the post ought to be, and to descend down from it to Gschaid.
The boy told his little sister his thought and she followed him.
But the way down to the "neck" was not to be found.
However clear the sun shone, however beautifully the snowy heights stood
there, and the fields of snow lay there, yet they could not recognize
the places over which they had come the day before. Yesterday, all had
been veiled by the immense snowfall, so they had scarcely seen a couple
of feet ahead of them, and then all had been a mingled white and gray.
They had seen only the rocks along and between which they had passed;
but today also they had seen many rocks and they all resembled those
they had seen the day before. Today, they left fresh tracks behind them
in the snow; yesterday, all tracks had been obliterated by the falling
snow.
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