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BRAND.
ACT FIRST.
High up in the mountain snowfields. The mist lies thick and close; it is raining, and nearly dark
Brand in black, with stick and wallet, is struggling on westward. A Peasant and his Young Son, who have joined him, are a little way behind.
The Peasant.
[Calling after Brand.]
Hullo, you stranger fellow, stay!
Where are you?
Brand.
Here!
The Peasant.
You've got astray!
The fog's so thick, my sight it passes
To see a staff's-length 'fore or back
The Son.
Father, here's clefts!
The Peasant.
And here crevasses!
