“And are you going across country also?” she asked the American gentleman. “No. I’m going back to my home in Meran. I have lived there for the last five years, and my wife is there. I had to run over to London on some business, and I’m glad to have got back in time. Another day and it might have been impossible.” “And how long will it take to walk from here to the Rhone Valley?” “You can still get a train to Landeck. Then strike right up the Lower Engadine Valley,-- Stay! I’ll show you on the map,” and he turned to the one on the wall. “Now,--see!--you go first to Landeck. Then follow up the Inn to Süss. Then strike across by the Flüela Pass to Davos, and then by the Strela Pass to Chur. Then by Ilanz and Disentis to the Gothard. There are no difficulties. The roads are good. It will be an exceedingly fine walk.” “What about our bags?” asked Lois. “Get a couple of rucksacs. Pack in as much as you can carry, and the rest.... You could have them forwarded from here. But I should be very doubtful if they’d ever reach you in the present state of matters.... Would you care to leave them in my charge? I will take them to my house and send them on as soon as things settle down.” And he pulled out his pocket-book and handed Ray his card--Charles D. Lockhart. Schloss Rothstein. Meran. “I came across a very fine book on Tirol by a Mr Lockhart not long since----” began Ray. “Quite right! I have written much on Tirol. Since I made my home here I have grown very fond of both the country and the people. I fervently hope we shall have no more than back-wash of the war here. But there’s no telling. Once the spark is in the stubble the flames may spread wide.” “We are greatly indebted to you, Mr Lockhart,” said Ray, “and since you are so good we will take advantage of your very kind offer. That is--if you can get all you will want till we get to Montreux into a rucksac, Lois.” “I’ll manage all right.” So they all had breakfast together, and much talk of the gigantic possibilities the near future might hold if it came to a universal war. Then, under their new friend’s experienced guidance, they made a quick round of the shops, bought rucksacs, alpenstocks, a Loden cloak each, and had their boots nailed in Swiss fashion. By the time they had packed their rucksacs and repacked their bags it was time for Mr Lockhart to catch his train for Botzen and Meran, and they accompanied him to the station and said good-bye to him and their property. And when the train had disappeared they looked at one another and burst out laughing. “I’m sure it’s quite all right,” laughed Lois, “But it does feel odd to send off all one’s belongings like that with a man one never set eyes on till an hour ago.” “It’s quite all right, my dear. I’d trust that old fellow with all I have--even with you. He’s a fine old boy, and we’ve got to thank him for putting us on to a gorgeous trip. Nothing like padding it for seeing the country!”