way and let him walk; but Mr. George
preferred that Rollo should mount again. There was still nearly another
hour's hard climbing to do and a long and pretty difficult walk of
several miles beyond it, and Mr. George was very desirous of saving
Rollo's strength. It might perhaps be supposed, from the blunt manner in
which Mr. George often threw the responsibility upon Rollo when he was
placed in difficult emergencies and left him to act for himself, that he
did not think or care much for his nephew's comfort or happiness. But
this was by no means the case. Mr. George was very fond of Rollo indeed.
If he had not been fond of him he would not have wished to have him for
his companion on his tour. He was very careful, too, never to expose
Rollo to any real hardship or suffering; and his apparently blunt
manner, in throwing responsibilities upon the boy, only amused him by
making it appear that his uncle George considered him almost a man.

Mr. George, knowing that the first part of the way from Lauterbrunnen to
the Wengern Alp was by far the most steep and difficult, had accordingly
arranged it in his own mind that Rollo should ride until this steep part
had been surmounted.

"You may mount again now, Rollo," said he. "I will walk a little longer
and take my turn in riding a little farther on."

So Rollo mounted; and there was now another hour of steep climbing. The
zigzags were sometimes sharp and short and at others long and winding;
but the way was always picturesque and the views became more and more
grand and imposing the higher the party ascended. At one time, when
Rollo had stopped a moment to let his horse breathe, he saw at a turn of
the path a few zigzags below him a little girl coming up, with a basket
on her back.

Rollo pointed to her and asked the guide, in French, who that girl was.

Henry said he did not know.

Henry, foolishly enough, supposed that Rollo meant to ask what the
girl's name was; and so he said that he did not know. But this was not
what Rollo meant at all. He had no particular desire in asking the
question to learn the child's name. What he wished to know was, what,
according to the customs of the country, would be the probable province
and function of such a sort of girl as that, coming alone up the
mountain in that way with a burden on her back. Henry, if he had
understood the real intent and meaning of the question, could easily
have answered it. The girl lived in a little hamlet of