notwithstanding his previous knowledge of the mountains, he had been
absolutely ignorant, lay between him and the source of the Golden River.
He entered on it with the boldness of a practised mountaineer; yet he
thought he had never traversed so strange or so dangerous a glacier in
his life. The ice was excessively slippery, and out of all its chasms
came wild sounds of gushing water; not monotonous or low, but changeful
and loud, rising occasionally into drifting passages of wild melody,
then breaking off into short, melancholy tones, or sudden shrieks,
resembling those of human voices in distress or pain. The ice was broken
into thousands of confused shapes, but none, Hans thought, like the
ordinary forms of splintered ice. There seemed a curious _expression_
about all their outlines,--a perpetual resemblance to living features,
distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful shadows and lurid lights
played and floated about and through the pale blue pinnacles, dazzling
and confusing the sight of the traveller; while his ears grew dull and
his head giddy with the constant gush and roar of the concealed waters.
These painful circumstances increased upon him as he advanced; the ice
crashed and yawned into fresh chasms at his feet, tottering spires
nodded around him, and fell thundering across his path; and though he
had repeatedly faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers, and in
the wildest weather, it was with a new and oppressive feeling of panic
terror that he leaped the last chasm, and flung himself, exhausted and
shuddering, on the firm turf of the mountain.

He had been compelled to abandon his basket of food, which became a
perilous incumbrance on the glacier, and had now no means of refreshing
himself but by breaking off and eating some of the pieces of ice. This,
however, relieved his thirst; an hour's repose recruited his hardy frame,
and, with the indomitable spirit of avarice, he resumed his laborious
journey.