FOR five days Louis and his grandfather had been imprisoned in the chalet. Each day their hope that Francis would return with a party of the villagers and attempt their rescue grew fainter. The goat had grown quite friendly with Louis, who always treated her kindly, and never forgot to milk her night and morning. In the stable they found a rack well filled with hay, so they were able to feed her well, and her milk was a welcome addition to their frugal meals. Every nook and corner in the chalet had been carefully searched to see what food had been left by Francis. It was not much, but for what there was they were truly thankful.
In the store-chest they found a bag of flour, a few loaves of bread, so hard that it was impossible to cut them with a knife, but Louis exclaimed joyfully, "There is an old hatchet in the tool-chest; it is very notched, and the saw is broken, but even with bad tools I feel sure we shall be able to chop or saw our bread." They also found a little salt, some ground coffee, and a small quantity of oil and lard.
The storm still raged outside, the wind increased in fury, and heavy masses of snow drifted against the walls of the chalet. So much came down their wide, open chimney that it was only at rare intervals they were able to light their fire, though they had a good stock of wood and a large sack filled with fir-cones, which Louis had collected when, during the summer months, he had paid a holiday visit to his father.
“Father made a sliding trap-door to the chimney," said Louis; "he told me it was to protect the chalet from rain. If I could only get up the chimney and unfasten it, leaving only a small space by which the smoke could escape, we might often enjoy the blaze of a cheerful fire. I do not like being always in the dark.”
“Neither do I," replied the old man, "If we had a ladder I do not think it would be difficult.”
“We have no ladder, grandfather; still, I think it can be done. In the stable there is a long fir pole; the bark is quite rough, and I have often climbed trees of which the stem was no thicker; I have watched the chimney-sweepers go up chimneys, and I feel sure that I could climb in the same way.”
After a good deal of trouble the fir pole was fixed in the chimney, and Louis tied a cord round his waist, by which to take up a shovel, and began to climb. Pressing his hands and feet against the walls of the chimney, he reached the roof, and began to shovel away the snow in order to find the trapdoor. What a sight met his eyes! The whole of the mountain, and the landscape as far as his eye could reach, looked, as he afterward told his grandfather, like one great, white carpet. After some time he found the trap-door and succeeded in fixing it so as to leave only a small opening by which the smoke could escape.
Louis got safely down the chimney; his clothes were wet through, and he was very tired, but bright and happy in knowing that he had been able to do such a useful piece of work. A bright fire, made of fir-cones and branches, was soon burning on the hearth, and his grandfather helped him to dry his clothes. They had no light but that of the fire, for they found that their, supply of oil was so small that they decided that they could only afford to light the lamp when milking the goat or doing some work for which a good light was really needed. They made up their minds not to eat the lard, as if the oil did not hold out it might be burnt in the lamp.
As the grandfather felt it would be in every way good for the boy to provide him with some useful occupation, he spread some wood ashes upon the hearth, in the way that in some schools he had seen sand used, and encouraged Louis to improve his knowledge of arithmetic.
One day, while thus engaged, he thought he felt a great heat behind him, and, turning quickly round, he saw that a sheaf of straw which stood in the far corner of the room, had caught fire. Louis threw himself upon it and tried to put it out with his hands, but only burnt them, without being able to extinguish the flames.
His grandfather, forgetting his pain and weakness, grasped the burning sheaf and carried it to the open hearth, at the same time calling upon Louis to remove everything that would burn, while, with a pitchfork, he held the sheaf. It was an anxious moment. It seemed as if the last straw would never burn. Sparks flew here and there. If the bed caught fire they would have no hope of escape, but must be burnt alive within the walls of their snow prison.
Poor Louis began to cry. His grandfather reminded him that it would be better to pray, as cut off as they were from all hope of human help, the eye of God was upon them, and He could, if He saw fit, prevent the flames from spreading. Minutes seemed like hours, but at last the flames went out, and they were left in total darkness, having received no injury beyond a few slight burns. But it was a long time before they felt themselves really safe. The goat, to their great delight, did not seem to have suffered, and gave them a good can of milk.
The old grandfather said, "The same danger may occur again, and we must be better prepared to meet it. There is in the stable a large, empty cask. We must stave in one end and fill it with snow, which will soon melt. We shall then have a constant supply of water close at hand." The cask was found, and with the help of an old hammer and chisel the head was taken out and the cask filled with snow, which was again falling heavily.
Soon after Louis searched every corner of the chalet in the hope of finding more provisions or books, as both his father and grandfather were, he knew, great readers, and he thought if he could find any old volume they might, he hoped, be able to read it by firelight, and so make the hours of their imprisonment seem shorter. He found a plank, which had been used to cover a small niche in the wall, had slipped from its place. Behind it he found a copy in Swiss-French of Martin Luther's translation of the Bible.
The book, though old, was entire, and clearly printed. Louis was greatly pleased, but his grandfather wept tears of joy, saying, "Ah! my child, though we are alone we are not forsaken. In the goodness of God we have food that will for some weeks support our bodies, and now we have the most precious food for our souls, the written word of God. He could have given us no greater treasure.”