At noon of that same Sunday Faller started for the Morgenhalde to tell Lenz the good news about his house. It was impossible to see his way before him, so fiercely did the snow and rain beat against his face. He plodded along with his head down till he supposed his place of destination must be nearly reached, when he looked up and rubbed his eyes in wonder and consternation. Where was he? had he lost his way? where was Lenz's house? There were the pine-trees that stood by it, but the house, the house! In his excitement he lost the path and fell into a deep snow-drift, into which all his efforts to extricate himself only made him sink the deeper. He cried in vain for help; no one heard him. He had just strength left to work his way along to a tree, by whose branches he clung till a fresh avalanche from above bore the snow away from under him and left him free. By following the clearing which the avalanche had made in its descent he succeeded in reaching the valley. It was already dark, and the lights were shining from the houses as he ran through the village, crying, "Help! help!" in a tone loud enough to wake the seven sleepers. All hastened to the windows or into the street, and the report quickly spread from mouth to mouth that the house of Lenz of the Morgenhalde had been buried under the snow. The alarm-bell which Faller hastened to ring from the church had small effect in bringing persons from beyond the village. The wind prevented the sound from reaching to any great distance, and those who heard it were deterred by the violence of the storm from obeying the summons. Pilgrim and the engineer were the first who appeared on the square before the church. Pilgrim was struck dumb with horror at the terrible misfortune which had overtaken his friend in this night of fearful storm. The engineer displayed the greatest bravery and presence of mind. "Bring all the ladders and cords you can lay hands on," he cried; "and shovels and picks besides." Torches flared in the wind, casting a wild light upon the pale, dishevelled women, who, with their cloaks thrown over their heads to keep out the sleet and rain, clung to their husbands and sons, and besought them not to risk their lives in this dreadful storm. The engineer fastened one end of a long rope about his body, and, instinctively assuming the place of leader, commanded that every six men should fasten themselves together at convenient distances to afford mutual support, and prevent loss of time from having to hunt up scattering members of the party. Pilgrim tied himself to the same rope with the engineer; Don Bastian was about to do likewise, but their temporary leader advised his heading a second company of six. A quantity of dry wood was collected to light fires with, and, armed with picks, shovels, and ladders, the party began the ascent of the mountain.