n,
because the people here are friendly to us, and distrust the
French, who have given them small cause to love them. But I am
convinced that so astute a man as Sir James Montacute would cause a
close watch to be kept upon this valley. Most likely our presence
here is known, and we are being watched for."

"And is there no other way of crossing the mountains into Italy?"

"Yes, there is one other route; for historians disagree as to the
one taken by Hannibal, albeit most believe that it was this of the
Little St. Bernard. There is another way, which doubtless could be
found; but if we were to strike aside after it, the spies would be
upon our heels at once."

"I was thinking," said Tom slowly, "that we might perchance part
company, one take one route and the other the other, and so arrange
matters that the spies should follow hot-foot upon the scent of the
wrong man."

A gleam came into Lord Claud's eyes. He spoke very quietly.

"In truth, Tom, some such thought has come into mine own head; but
it is not easy to make up one's mind to act upon it, for I fear it
means certain death to the wrong man who must be followed."

Tom's face set itself in grim lines. There was a vein of reckless
bravery and hardihood about him which imparted to the situation a
species of stern delight, and sent the blood tingling once more
through his veins.

"I will take the risk of that," he said; "I shall take some
killing, I think. And killing is a game that more than one can play
at! If I have to sell my life, I will make it cost the French King
dear."

"Right, Tom; but that will not give back a gallant servant to Her
Majesty of England!"

"I am not dead yet," answered Tom, with a grim laugh. "Tell me the
plan which you have worked out in your head, my lord; for your wits
are seven-fold keener than mine."

Then Lord Claud unfolded the plan which had been working in his
busy brain during the day that Tom had been sleeping, after he had
heard news which made him sure that his mission was suspected, and
that he would be stopped and robbed if possible.

Higher up the mountain side, just where the snow line lay, above
which there was everlasting ice and snow, was a little rough
hostel, where travellers rested and slept before they tried the
pass itself. An old half-witted man and his goitred wife kept the
place, and provided rough food and bedding for travellers, though
interesting themselves in no wise with their concerns. In that