THE SCHOOLMASTER'S VISIT
"Goodnews! good news!" cried Carl, as he came running into the house, quite out of breath.
"The schoolmaster is coming, mother. I know it must be he. Come, Franz, let's go to meet him."
The sun was just hiding his head behind the mountain-tops, and the little family were about to sit down to their evening meal.
"Do go at once, my dear boys," said Carl's mother. "Tell the good teacher how glad we are at his coming."
It was not a complete surprise, for the schoolmaster had promised Carl to spend aweek with him on the mountain pastures, if it were possible.
Another place was quickly set at the table. In a few minutes the boys returned, and with them was a man with a kind face and a hearty voice.
"Welcome, welcome! my friend," said Rudolf. "It is indeed a pleasure to see you here. What news is there from the good folks of our village?"
"They are all well, and send greetings. Even poor little Gretel, the cretin, seemed to understand where I was coming, and she sent you her love."
What is a cretin, you wonder? A person of weak mind is so called in Switzerland. You often find such people who are not as bright as they should be. The mind is dull and dark, it cannot see and understand like others.
Why is it that cretins are often found in the homes of the poor? Some think it is becausethe Swiss are such hard workers, and yet do not have the nourishing food they should.
"Have you been at home all summer?" asked Rudolf.
"No, I had business that took me over the St. Bernard Pass. It was a hard journey, even in this summer-time, for I travelled most of the way on foot."
"O, how I wish I could have gone with you," cried Franz. "I have always longed to visit the good monks and see their brave dogs."
"It must be a terrible tramp over the mountain in winter," the schoolmaster went on. "Yet every year there are some people who need to go that way at that season. How much worse it would be, however, if the monastery were not there, with the priests living in it and giving their lives to help others."
"They say that the cold is so great that themonks cannot stand more than a few years of such a life," said Rudolf.
"It is true," replied the schoolmaster. "Many of them die before their time, while others must after a while go down to warmer lands. The noble dogs that they raise stand the cold much better."
"I have often made a picture for myself of a snow-storm on the St. Bernard," said Carl, thoughtfully. He had not spoken for a long time. "How the drifts pile up and fill the pathway. The snow falls thick and fast, and after a while the poor traveller cannot tell which way to turn. He grows cold and numb; he is quite tired out. At last he gives up hope, and perhaps he sinks down, and perhaps he loses all sense of where he is. Now is the very time that the good monks, watching the storm, loose the dogs. But first, food and reviving drink are fastened to the collars of the trusty animals.
"Off they bound, down the mountainside, scenting the air on every side. They understand their duty and work faithfully. They find the poor traveller in time to save his life and guide him to the home of the priests. Ah! how I love these good men and their faithful dogs."
"Your cheeks have grown quite rosy with the story, my boy," said the schoolmaster. "The picture in your mind must be bright, indeed. But we cannot praise too highly both the monks and their loving deeds. Sometimes, alas! the dogs do not find the travellers in time, however. Then they can only drag their dead bodies to the monastery, where they will stay till friends of the travellers come to claim them. But enough of this sad thought for to-night; let us talk of other things."
"Dear master," said Franz, "please tell us of other things you have seen this summer. We always love to hear your stories."
"Let me see. O, yes, now I think of something that will interest you boys. I travelled for quite a distance with a hunter. He had been in search of chamois, but he says they are getting very scarce now. He was bringing home only one."
Goat following boy"'FOLLOWING ITS MASTER ABOUT JUST LIKE A DOG.'"
"'FOLLOWING ITS MASTER ABOUT JUST LIKE A DOG.'"
"It seems a shame to kill the poor creatures," said Carl's father. "They are gentle and harmless, and take pleasure in living where others find only danger. Once I came suddenly upon a herd of them. They seemed to be having a game of chase together, and were frolicking gaily. But at the sound of my footstep they fled like the wind over the snow and ice. In a moment, almost, they were out of sight."
"Why can they climb where no one else is able to go?" asked Carl.
"Behind each hoof there is another called the false hoof," replied the schoolmaster. "I looked at those of the dead chamois the hunterwas carrying home. These extra hoofs give the creature the power to hold himself in places which would not be safe without their aid. Their bodies are very light and their legs are slim, while they seem to be entirely without fear of anything save men."
"Poor little things," exclaimed Franz. "We are taught to be kind to the birds and to protect them in every way. I never in my life knew of a Swiss harming a bird's nest. We ought to be kind to the chamois as well. I once knew a boy who had a tame one for a pet. His father caught it when it was very young. It was the dearest little thing, following its master about just like a dog. In summer its hair was yellowish brown, but in winter it grew darker and was almost black."
"Did you know that the chamois always have a sentinel on guard while they are feeding?" asked the schoolmaster.
"No, sir," said both boys together.
"Yes, it is true, the hunters have told me so. If this chamois guard hears the slightest sound or discovers even a footprint, he at once gives an alarm. Away flees the herd in search of safety.
"But, dear me! it is growing late and you must be up early in the morning. Then you must show me your store of cheeses," he added, turning to Carl's mother. "The cows are looking fine; they must enjoy the pastures here. And now, good night. May you all sleep well in the care of the loving Father."
In a few minutes every one in the little cottage was resting quietly.
THE BRAVE ARCHER
Itwas a bright summer day. In the morning Carl's father had said to the boys:
"You may have a holiday and may go where you please with the schoolmaster. I will attend to the cows all the day."
So they had taken a lunch and had climbed to the summit of the mountain. Their kind teacher had told them stories of the flowers and the stones.
"They never seemed so much alive to me before," said Carl, as they sat resting on a big gray rock, far up above the pastures. "I like to hear you talk in school, dear master, but it is far better up here among the grand mountains and in the fresh air. Perhaps William Tell himself once stood on this very spot."
"It is quite likely," replied the schoolmaster. "You know that his home was not many miles from our village. He was never so happy as when wandering among the mountains. Those were wonderful times in which he lived. But there is the same feeling now as then. We Swiss love freedom best of all, and are ever ready to give our lives for it, if there be need."
"How cruel the Austrians were! They thought that because theirs was a large and powerful country they could do with us as they pleased. But they found themselves mistaken after awhile, didn't they?" said Franz.
"Yes, my boy, but never forget that our freedom started in the work ofthreemen, and three only, who joined together with brave hearts. They worked with no selfish feeling, and, before the end came, they had filled all Switzerland with the daring to be free."
"Yes, yes, we will always remember that.And only think! one of those three men lived here in our Canton. I am always proud to think of it."
"Boys, look at our country now, and then turn back to the sad times long ago. Can you imagine the way those three men felt when they met in the dark night on the field of Rütli? Can you not see them pledging themselves to their country in throwing off the yoke of Austria?
"They hated their rulers so much that a peacock was not allowed to live in Switzerland. That was, you know, because a peacock feather was the emblem of Austria."
"Wasn't it about that time that William Tell lived?" asked Carl.
"Yes, and he was known through all the country as a brave man and a skilful archer. It was very natural that he should refuse to show honour to the Austrian governor."
"It makes me angry whenever I think ofGessler," cried Franz. "It seems to me only another name for cruel power. But is it possible that he really had his hat stuck up on a pole in the market-place of Altdorf, and that every Swiss who passed by was ordered to bow down before it?"
"I believe so, although some people think the whole story of William Tell is only a legend, and that is a part of it. Our history shows, however, that this brave man really lived."
"Won't you repeat the story?" asked Franz. "I love to hear it over and over again."
"Yes, if you like."
"After Gessler's hat had been stuck on the pole, William Tell was one of those who passed by. Bow before the hat of the cruel tyrant! It was not to be thought of. Tell took no notice of it whatever. He did not appear to know it was there.
"Now it happened that one of Gessler's spies stood near by. He watched Tell closely. He sent word to his master at once that there was one Swiss who would not give him proper honour. You know what followed, my boys. Tell was seized and bound.
"Gessler must have said to himself, 'I will make an example of this insolent peasant.' For Tell was brought before him and ordered to stand at a great distance from his little son and shoot at an apple on the boy's head. If he struck the apple he was to be allowed to go free.
"Do you think Tell feared he could not do it? No, he was too good an archer. But his child was so dear to him that his very love might make his hand tremble. Think again! the boy might move from fright, and then the arrow would enter his body instead of the apple on his head.
"It was a terrible thing to think of. ButWilliam Tell made ready for the trial. The time came. A crowd of people gathered to see the test. The boy did not move a muscle. The arrow went straight to its mark. The people shouted with joy.
"Then it was that Gessler, who had been watching closely, noticed that Tell held a second arrow.
"'Why didst thou bring more than one, thou proud peasant?' angrily asked the tyrant.
"'That I might shoot thee had I failed in cleaving the apple,' was the quick answer.
"'Seize him! Bind him hand and foot, and away with him to the dungeon!' shouted the enraged governor.
"His men seized Tell, and strong chains made the noble Swiss helpless. He was carried to a boat already waiting on the shore, for the dungeon was across the deep, blue waters of Lake Lucerne.
"Ah! how sad must have been the hearts of our people as they watched Gessler and his servants get into the boat and row away. They thought they would never see the brave archer again.
"But this was not God's will. A sudden storm arose before the party had gone very far. The wind blew fearfully, and the little boat was tossed about on the waves as though it were a feather. The rowers could not keep the boat in her course. It seemed as though, every moment, she would be dashed against the rocks and destroyed. Then it was that Gessler remembered that Tell was as skilful with a boat as he was with a bow and arrow.
"'Take off the peasant's chains,' he cried. 'Let him guide us to a safe landing-place. It is our only chance of being saved.'
"Tell was made free. His quick mind told him what to do. He seized the oars, andwith strong strokes soon brought the boat close to the shore. Then, springing out, he pushed the boat off into the water.
"Would Gessler be saved? Tell wondered if it were possible. Then he said to himself, 'If the tyrant is not destroyed, he must go home through the pass in the mountains.'
"With this thought, he hurried up over the crags, and hid himself behind a great rock. He waited patiently. At last he heard footsteps and voices. His enemy was drawing near. He stood ready with bent bow. As Gessler came into view, whizz! flew the arrow straight into the tyrant's heart! He could never again harm Switzerland or the Swiss."
"Brave Tell! Brave Tell!" shouted Carl. "Dear master, have you ever visited the chapel which stands to-day in honour of this great countryman of ours?"
"Yes, Carl, and when you come back to the lowlands in the fall, you shall visit it with me.You and Franz must also go to look at the stone on which Tell stepped as he sprang from Gessler's boat. Even now, we can seem to feel Tell's joy when he wandered among the mountains, and thought of plans by which he could help his country. For after Gessler was killed, there was the whole army of Austria to be driven out."
"People needn't tell me that the story of William Tell and the apple is only a legend," exclaimed Franz. "I believe every word of it, don't you, Carl?"
"Indeed I do. Won't you tell us another story? Look! the sun is still high in the sky. We need not go home for an hour yet."
"Let me see, boys. Shall it be a tale of old Switzerland and of her struggles with her enemies?"
"Yes, yes," cried both boys. "We are never tired of hearing of the lives of our great men."
"Very well, then, you shall listen to the story of Arnold of Winkelried.
"It was a time of great danger. The Austrians were pouring into our country. Their soldiers, protected by the strongest steel armour, bore fearful weapons. Our people were poor, and had only slings or bows and arrows with which to defend themselves. What should be done? There was the Austrian army, closely drawn up, with shields glistening in the sunlight,—here were the Swiss, few and unprotected, but burning with love for their country.
"It seemed as though all chance of saving Switzerland was hopeless. Then the brave Arnold spoke.
"'Friends,' said he, 'I am ready to give my life for my country. I will rush into the ranks of our enemies and make an entrance for you. Be ready; follow with all your might, and you may throw them into confusion. You wholive after me must take care of my wife and children when I am gone.'
"There was not a moment to be lost.
"'Make way for Liberty!' cried Arnold, then ran with arms extended wide, as if to clasp his dearest friend.
"A hundred spears were thrust toward him. He gathered as many as he could in his hands and arms. They entered his body on all sides, but before the hero fell he had made an opening into the ranks of the enemy through which his comrades dashed. Thrown into confusion, the Austrians fled, and were driven out of our loved country.
"Switzerland was saved for us, my lads, through the sacrifice of that noble man, Arnold von Winkelried. May you live to do him honour!"
"I can see him now, as he rushed into the midst of the cruel Austrians," cried Carl, jumping to his feet. "Noble, noble Arnold! Ido not believe any other land has such a hero. Dear master, I will try to be braver and truer all my life, and be ready to serve my country faithfully in time of need."
"I, too," exclaimed Franz, "will be more of a man from this very moment."
"Well said, my dear boys. But come, it is growing late and you will be needed at home."
THE HAYMAKERS
"Mother!mother! here come the mowers," called Carl, as he came toward the house with a pail of milk in each hand. The wooden milking-stool was still strapped around the boy's waist, and its one leg stuck out behind like a little stiff tail. You would have laughed at the sight, as did the two haymakers who had by this time reached the hut.
"What, ho! Carl," said one of the men, "are you changing into a monkey now you have come up to the highlands for the summer?"
"I was so busy thinking," replied the boy, "that I forgot to leave the stool in the stable when I had finished the milking. I am gladyou are here to-night. How does the work go?"
"Pretty hard, my boy, pretty hard, but I love it," answered the younger man of the two mowers. "Still, I shouldn't advise you to be a haymaker when you grow up. It is too dangerous a business."
"It isn't such hard work gathering the hay in these parts as it is in most places," said the older man. "Ah! many a time I have worked all day long on the edge of a precipice; it is a wonder I am living now."
"It is not strange that the law allows only one person in a family to be a haymaker," said Carl's mother, who had come to the door to welcome her visitors. "I am very glad my husband never chose the work. I should fret about him all through the summer. But come in, friends, and lay down your scythes. We are glad to see you."
The two mowers were on their way tohigher places up on the mountain. They were cutting the wild hay which could be found here and there in little patches among the rocks and cliffs.
Could this work be worth while? We wonder if it is possible. But the Swiss value the mountain hay greatly. It is sweet and tender and full of fine herbs, while the higher it grows, the better it is. The cattle have a treat in the winter-time when they have a dinner of this wild mountain hay.
Carl's friends had large nets tied up in bundles and fastened to their backs. Their shoes had iron spikes in the strong soles. These would keep their feet from slipping, as they reached down over the edge of a sharp cliff or held themselves on some steep slope while they skilfully gathered the hay and put it in the nets. But, even then, they must not make a false step or grow dizzy, or let fear enter their heads. If any of these thingsshould happen, an accident, and probably a very bad one, too, would surely follow.
When all the nets were filled, they would be stored in safe nooks until the snow should come. Then for the sport! For the mowers would climb the mountains with their sledges, load them with the nets full of hay, and slide down the slopes with their precious stores.
"May I go with you when you collect the hay in November?" Carl asked his friends. "I won't be afraid, and it is such fun travelling like the wind."
"It will take your breath away, I promise you," said the boy's father. He had come into the house just in time to hear what was being said. "I will risk you, Carl, however. You would not be afraid, and he who is not afraid is generally safe. It is fear that causes most of the accidents. But come, my good wife has made the supper ready. Let us sit down; then we can go on talking."
"How good this is!" said one of the visitors, as he tasted the bread on which toasted cheese had been spread.
Carl's mother did not sit down to the table with the others. She had said to herself, "I will give the mowers a treat. They are not able to have the comforts of a home very often." So she stood by the fire and held a mould of cheese close to the flames. As fast as it softened, she scraped it off and spread it on the slices of bread. Every one was hungry, so she was kept busy serving first one, then another.
She smiled at the men's praise. They told her they had spent the night before with two goatherds who lived in a cave. It was only a few miles away on the west slope of the mountain.
"They have a fine flock of goats," said one of the men, "and they are getting quantities of rich milk for cheese. But it cannot begood for them to sleep two or three months in such a wretched place. They look pale, even though they breathe this fine mountain air all day long."
"Carl and Franz don't look sickly, by any means," laughed Rudolf, as he pointed to the boys' brown arms. The sleeves of their leather jackets were short and hardly reached to their elbows. The strong sunshine and wind had done their work and changed the colour of the fair skin to a deep brown.
"You will have good weather for haying, to-morrow," said Franz, who was standing at the window and looking off toward a mountain-top in the distance. "Pilatus has his hood on to-night."
"A good sign, surely," said Rudolf. "We shall probably see a fine sunrise in the morning. You all know the old verse,
"'If Pilatus wears his hood,Then the weather's always good.'"
The "hood" is a cloud which spreads out over the summit of the mountain and hides it from sight. Carl has often looked for this the night before a picnic or festival. If he saw it, he would go to bed happy, for he felt sure it would be pleasant the next day.
"I shouldn't think Pilatus would be happy with such a name," said Franz. "I wonder if it is really true that Pilate's body was buried in the lake up near its summit."
"That is the story I heard when I was a little boy at my mother's knee," said the old hay-cutter. "I have heard it many times since. It may be only a legend, but it seems true to me, at any rate."
"Tell it to us again," said Rudolf. "There are no stories like the ones we heard in our childhood."
"It was after the death of our Master," said the mower, in a low, sad voice. "Pilate saw too late what he had done. He had allowedthe Wise One to be put to death. He himself was to blame, for he could have saved Him. He could not put the thought out of his mind. At last, he could bear it no longer, and he ended his own life.
"His body was thrown into the Tiber, a river that flows by the city of Rome. The river refused to let it stay there, for it was the body of too wicked a man, so it cast it up on the shore. Then it was carried to the Rhine, but this river would not keep it, either. What should be tried now? Some one said, 'We will take it to the summit of a mountain where there is a deep lake, and drop it in the dark waters.'
"It was done, and the body found a resting-place at last."
"You did not finish the story," said Rudolf. "It is said that the restless spirit of Pilate is allowed to arise once each year and roam through the mountains for a single night ona jet-black horse. On that night the waters of the lake surge and foam as if a terrible storm were raging."
"Are you going to the party to-morrow night?" asked the younger mower. "The goatherds told me about it. I wish we could be there, but our work is too far away. The villagers are getting ready for a good time."
"What party?" cried Carl and Franz together. They were excited at the very idea.
"Why, haven't you heard about it? You know there is a little village about two miles below the pasture where those goatherds live. The young folks have planned to have a dance and a wrestling match. I am surprised you have not heard about it. They expect all the herders and mowers to come from near and far. You will certainly be invited in the morning."
And so it was. Before the cows were let out to pasture, a horn was heard in the distance.
"Hail, friends!" it seemed to call.
Carl rushed into the house for his own horn and gave a strong, clear blast, then another and another. It was an answering cry of welcome and good-will.
A boy about twelve years old soon came into view. He wore a tight-fitting leather cap and heavy shoes with iron-spiked soles like Carl's. He came hurrying along.
"There is to be a party at our village to-night," he said, as soon as he was near enough for Carl to hear. "It will be moonlight, you know, and we will have a jolly time. All your folks must come, too."
Carl and Franz were soon talking with the boy as though they had always known him, yet they had never met before.
"My folks came near forgetting there wasany one living here this summer," the strange boy said. "They only thought about it last night, but they very much wish you to come."
He stayed only a few moments, as he had been told to return at once.
"There is plenty to do, you know, to get ready for a party," he said. "Besides, it will take me a good hour to go back by the shortest path around the slope, it winds up and down so much. But you will come, won't you?"
Carl's father and mother were as much pleased by the invitation as were the boys. The milking was done earlier than usual, and the cows were locked up in the stable before the sunset light had coloured the snowy tops of the distant mountains.
It was quite a long tramp for Carl's mother, but she only thought how nice it would be to join in dance and song again. The wrestling match took place in the afternoon. The fatherwould not have missed that for a good deal, so he left home three hours, at least, before the others. The boys stayed behind to help the mother in the milking and to show her the way to the village afterward.
The party was a merry one. They drank cup after cup of coffee, and all the good old songs of Switzerland were sung with a will. Carl's mother showed she had not forgotten how to dance. Carl and Franz were too shy to join in the dancing, but it was fun enough for them to watch the others. Oh, yes, it was a merry time, and the moon shone so brightly that it lighted the path homeward almost as plainly as though it were daytime.
"Next week we return to our own little village in the valley," said Rudolf, as the family walked back after the party. "Our old friends will be glad to see us as well as the fine store of cheese we shall bring. Then for another merrymaking. Carl, you must showus then what you learned at the gymnasium last year."
The boy's father was proud of Carl's strength and grace. "How fine it is," he often said to himself, "that every school in our country has a gymnasium, so that the boys are trained in body as well as in mind. That is the way to have strong men to defend our country and to govern it. I will buy Carl a rifle for his very own. The boy deserves it, he has worked so hard and so well all summer. He can shoot well already, and I will train him myself this winter, and in a year or two more he can take part in the yearly rifle match. I am very glad I have a son."
THE MARMOT
Itwas the week after Carl got back to the village. What a busy day it had been for his mother! You would certainly think so if you had looked at the wide field back of the house. A great part of it was covered with the family wash. Sheets, sheets, sheets! And piece after piece of clothing! What could it all mean?
And did this little family own so much linen as lay spread out on the grass to-day? It was indeed so. In Carl's village it is the custom to wash only twice a year. Of course, chests full of bedding are needed to last six months, if the pieces are changed as often in Switzerland as they are in our country.
When Carl's mother was married, shebrought enough linen to her new home to last for the rest of her life. Carl's grandmother had been busy for years getting it ready for her daughter. A Swiss woman would feel ashamed if she did not have a large quantity of such things with which to begin housekeeping.
When the washing had been spread out on the grass, Carl's mother went into the house feeling quite tired from her day's work. The two women who had been helping her had gone home. She sat down in a chair to rest herself, and closed her eyes. Just then she heard steps outside.
"It is Carl getting home from school," she thought, and she did not look up, even when the door opened.
"Well, wife, we have caught you sleeping, while it is still day. Wake up, and see who has come to visit us."
She opened her eyes, and there stood not only her husband and Carl, but a dear brotherwhom she had not seen for years. How delighted she was! He had changed from a slim young fellow into a big, strong man.
boy tied by a rope to a man, both climbing rocks of MatterhornCLIMBING THE MATTERHORN.
CLIMBING THE MATTERHORN.
"O, Fritz, how glad I am to see you," she cried. "Do tell us about all that has happened. We have not heard from you for a long time. What have you been doing?"
"I have spent part of my time as a guide among the highest mountains of the Alps. There is not much work of that kind to do around here; the passes are not dangerous, you know. Most of the travellers who come to this part of Switzerland are satisfied if they go up the Rigi in a train. But I have taken many dangerous trips in other parts of the country, and been well paid for them."
"Have you ever been up the Matterhorn?" asked Carl.
"Only once, my boy. It was the most fearful experience of my whole life. I shudder when I think of it. There was a party ofthree gentlemen besides another guide and myself. You know it is the shape of that mountain that makes it so dangerous to climb. It reaches up toward the heavens like a great icy wedge.
"Of course, we had a long, stout rope to pass from one to another. It was fastened around the waist of each of us, as soon as we reached the difficult part. Our shoes had iron spikes in the soles to help us still more, while each one carried a stout, iron-shod staff. The other guide and myself had hatchets to use in cutting steps when we came to a smooth slope of ice.
"Think of it, as we sit here in this cozy, comfortable room. There were several times that I was lowered over a steep, ice-covered ridge by a rope. And while I hung there, I had to cut out steps with my hatchet.
"There was many a time, too, that only one of us dared to move at a time. In case thefooting was not safe, the others could pull him back if he made a misstep and fell."
"Did you climb that dangerous mountain in one day?" asked Rudolf. "I thought it was impossible."
"You are quite right. We went the greater part of the distance the first day, and then camped out for the night. Early the next morning we rose to finish the fearful undertaking. And we did succeed, but I would never attempt it again for all the money in the world."
"O, Fritz, how did you feel when you had reached the summit?" asked Carl's mother.
"In the first place, I was terribly cold. My heart was beating so rapidly I could scarcely think. It was not from fear, though. It was because the air was so thin that it made the blood rush rapidly through the lungs to get enough of it.
"But I can never forget the sight that was before us. Everything we had ever known seemed so little now, it was so far below us. Towns, lakes, and rivers were tiny dots or lines, while we could look across the summits of other snow-capped peaks."
"Was it easy coming down?" asked Carl, "that is, of course, did it seem easy beside the upward climb?"
"I believe the descent was more terrible, my boy. It was hard to keep from growing dizzy, and it would have been so easy to make a false step and slide over some cliff and fall thousands of feet. I couldn't keep out of my mind the story of the first party who climbed to the summit of the Matterhorn."
"I do not wonder, my dear brother, the whole world sorrowed over their fate," said Carl's mother. "Only think of their pride at succeeding, and then of the horrible death of four of the party."
"Do tell us about it; I never heard the story," said Carl.
"A brave man named Whymper was determined to climb the mountain," answered his father. "Every one else had failed. He said to himself: 'I will not give up. I will keep trying even if the storms and clouds and ice-walls drive me back again and again.'
"He kept on trying, but each time with no success. At last Whymper formed a party with three Englishmen. They hired the trustiest guides known in the country, besides two men to carry the tents and provisions. After great trouble they reached the summit and planted a flag there to tell the story of their coming.
"But on their way down one of the Englishmen slipped. He struck the guide as he fell and the two men hung over the precipice. They were fastened to the others by the rope; surely they could be saved!But, alas! the rope broke under the sudden weight. Not only those men, but two others, were swept down four thousand feet!
"The others who were left were filled with such horror they could not move for a long while. Their skilful guide had been killed; could they descend the mountain safely now? It looked impossible; they were dizzy and faint. It seemed as though there were only one thing left: they would have to stay where they were till death should come.
"After a while, however, their courage returned and they succeeded in reaching the foot of the mountain at last without any other accident, but with a sad and fearful story to tell of those who started out with them."
"I should think we would have heard of your climbing the Matterhorn, Fritz," said Rudolf. "It was a great thing to do, and few have dared it. We are proud of you, indeed.How would you have liked to be in your uncle's place, Carl?"
"I wish I could have been with him, father. When I am older, I hope I may have a chance to do such daring deeds. I'll be glad to try, anyway."
Carl's mother shivered, as she quickly said:
"There are other kinds of brave deeds, Carl, which I hope you will be ever ready to do. Speak the truth and be an honest man in all things. That kind of bravery in you will satisfy me. But be willing for your mother's sake to stay away from icy mountain peaks."
The loving woman's eyes had filled with tears. Carl ran to her and put his arms around her neck.
"Don't fret, my dear mother, I will always try to do what you wish." And he kissed her again and again. As he did so, he began to cough.
"I believe Carl has the whooping-cough," said his father. "He never had it when he was little, and every now and then he gives a regular whoop."
"I wish we had some marmot fat; that would cure him quickly," said his mother. "At any rate, it would make him feel better."
"I have a bottle of the oil in my satchel," said his uncle. "It is good for so many things, I keep it on hand. Here, Carl, open the bag and take a dose at once. I got it from the fat of the last marmot I killed."
"O, uncle, I never saw one in my life. I've heard so much about marmots, I would rather hear you tell about them than take the medicine."
"You may have both the medicine and the story, Carl. While we sit around the stove this evening you shall hear of the fun I have had hunting the shy little creature."
Uncle Fritz was certainly good company. He helped Rudolf and Carl in doing the night's work about the little farm while the supper was made ready. Two or three of the neighbours came in after that. They had heard of Fritz's arrival, and wished to welcome him. It was a very pleasant evening, for Fritz was glad to see his old friends and had much to tell.
Before bedtime came, Carl asked his uncle to tell about marmot hunting. "You know you promised me before supper," he said.
"What shall I tell?" laughed Fritz. "You all know, to begin with, what a shy little creature it is, and how it passes the winter."
"It lies asleep month after month, doesn't it?" asked Carl. "The schoolmaster told us so."
"Yes, my dear. It lives high up on the mountainsides and close to the snow-line. Of course, the summer season is very shortthere. All through the long winter of six or eight months the marmot lies in his burrow and does not move. You would hardly call it sleep, though. The little creature scarcely breathes; if you should see him then, you would think he was dead.
"But as soon as there is warmer weather he begins to rouse himself. How thin he is now! At the beginning of winter he was quite fat. That fat has in some wonderful way kept him alive through the long months."
"Does he stay in this burrow all alone, uncle?"
"O, no. Marmots live together in families in the summer-time, and when the time comes for a long rest, a whole family enter the burrow and stretch themselves out close together on the hay."
"Where does the hay come from?" asked one of the visitors.
"Why, the marmots carry it into the burrowand line it as carefully as birds prepare their nests."
"I have heard," said Rudolf, "that one marmot lies on his back and holds a bundle of hay between his legs, while two or three others drag him through the long tunnel into the burrow. That is the reason the hair is worn off the backs of so many of them."
Fritz held his sides with laughter.
"Did you believe such a silly story as that, Rudolf? I thought you knew more about the animals of our mountains than that, surely.
"When a marmot's back is bare, you may know it is because the roof of his burrow is not high enough. His hair has rubbed off against it as he moved while asleep."
"How large do the marmots grow?" asked Carl. "Are they pretty creatures, uncle; and are they clever?"
"They are rather stupid, it seems to me, Carl, and they are not as pretty as squirrels.They are larger, however. The colour of their fur is a yellowish-gray. Their tails are short, like those of rabbits. They move about in a slow, clumsy way."
"Why are they so hard to catch, if that is so?" said Carl's mother.
"While they are feeding, there is always one of them acting as a guard. He stands near the opening into the burrow, and gives a cry of alarm if he hears the slightest strange sound. Then all the others scamper with him through the passageway into their home."
"But can't the hunters easily dig it out and reach them?" asked Carl.
"Sometimes the tunnel that leads to the burrow is many feet long. A friend of mine unearthed one that was actually thirty feet from the outside opening of the burrow."
"How did you manage to catch them? You have killed quite a number, haven't you?" asked Rudolf.
"Yes, I have been quite successful, and this is the way I worked: If I found any tracks or signs of their burrows, I crept along very softly. I kept looking ahead in all directions. Away off in the distance, perhaps, I saw something looking like a family of marmots asleep in the sunshine.
"I crept nearer and nearer. I must not make a sound or I would lose my chance. At last, when I was close upon them, I lifted a stone and blocked the opening to their burrow. Then I whistled. The poor little things waked up too late and saw that their way home was cut off. They gave a shrill cry, like a whistle, and fled together into the nearest cranny. There they cowered while I drew near and pinned one of them to the ground. It was an easy matter to end its life after that.
"If I wished to carry it home alive, I seized it by its hind legs and dropped it into a bag; the poor little thing was helpless then."
"You will stay with us for a while, won't you, Fritz?" asked one of the neighbours. "You have been a long time away, and have been living a rough and dangerous life as a guide. It seems good, indeed, to see you back again."
"Yes, I shall rest here for a month or so with my good sister and Rudolf. Then I must be away among my mountains again. I am never so happy as when I am climbing some difficult slope."
"It is growing late, friends," said one of the visitors. "We must bid you good night, for to-morrow brings its work to each of us."
"Good night, good night, then. But let us first have a song in memory of old days," said Fritz.
All joined with a good-will. Half an hour afterward the lights were out in the little house and every one was settled for a good night's rest.