my arm and hoarsely whispered—"Sehen Sie, Herr, die todten Leute!"
We were marked out for the vengeance of the immortal gods. The fiends who haunt the crags of the Matterhorn were already gloating over their prey! Such was the purport of the agonised whispers of the men. I am fain to confess, the crawling, bluish flames, the utter silence, and the contagion of my companions' superstitious fear, thrilled me with instinctive horror. I perceived, however, that if we were not to return to Zermatt baffled and beaten a second time, the delights of a spiritualistic séance must be abandoned in favour of a matter-of-fact explanation. My efforts in this direction led Burgener and Venetz to the somewhat erroneous belief that every square yard of England, Scotland, and Wales is illuminated, nightly, by similar, but far more brilliant and nerve-shattering, displays. Despite the unfortunate way in which my German would give out just as I was making a really effective point, the men were evidently inclined to think that these "Geister" were, perhaps, impostors; but, alas! this was not all.
"Ach lieber Herr, did you not see the wandering light on the Gorner glacier? There is no boggy ground there. That was a Geist."
In vain I protested that it was a lantern. "A lantern! What could any one want there? It was on the road to nowhere; besides, it did not
