he
expects to visit that part of Switzerland. When he was a little boy he
used to visit his grandmother, who lived near Zug. The chalet where she
lived is still standing, and he wants to see it once more, he said, before
he dies."

"He must know lots of stories about the place," said Lloyd.

"He does. He has tramped all over the mountain back of the town after wild
strawberries, followed the peasants to the mowing, and gone to many a fete
in the village. We are fortunate to have such an interesting guide."

"I wish that Betty could be with us to hear all the stories he tells us,"
said Lloyd, beginning to look forward to the journey with more pleasure,
now that she knew there was a prospect of being entertained by the Major.
Usually she grew tired of the confinement in the little railway carriages
where there were no aisles to walk up and down in, and fidgeted and yawned
and asked the time of day at every station.

During the first part of the journey toward Zug, the Major had little to
say. He leaned wearily back in his seat with his eyes closed much of the
time. But as they began passing places that were connected with
interesting scenes of his childhood, he roused himself, and pointed them
out with as much enjoyment as if he were a schoolboy, coming home on his
first vacation.

"See those queer little towers still left standing on the remnants of the
old town wall," he said as they approached Zug. "The lake front rests on a
soft, shifting substratum of sand, and there is danger, when the water is
unusually low, that it may not be able to support the weight of the houses
built upon it. One day, over four hundred years ago, part of the wall and
some of the towers sank down into the lake with twenty-six houses.

"I have heard my grandmother tell of it, many a time, as she heard the
tale from her grandmother. Many lives were lost that day, and there was a
great panic. Later in the day, some one saw a cradle floating out in the
lake, and when it was drawn in, there lay a baby, cooing and kicking up
his heels as happily as if cradle-rides on the water were common
occurrences. He was the little son of the town clerk, and grew up to be
one of my ancestors. Grandmother was very fond of telling that tale, how
the baby smiled on his rescuers, and what a fine, pleasant man he grew up
to be, beloved by the whole village.

"It has not been much over a dozen years since another piece of the town
sank down into the water. A lo