And an hour later they had turned their backs on Landeck and the snow peaks of the Lechtaler Alps, and were footing it gaily up the right bank of the roaring Inn, with the northern spurs of the Oetztaler towering up in front of them beyond the dark mouth of the Kaunser-Tal. It was a gray day and none too warm, but excellent weather for walking, and there was in them an exuberant spirit of relief at having shaken off the trammels of ordinary life and left behind, for the time being at all events, the gathering war-clouds and ominous preparations. If it had rained in torrents they would still have been perfectly happy, for that which was within them was proof against outside assault of any kind whatsoever. It was a lonely walk, and so the more delightful to them. They desired no company but their own. Beyond an occasional man of the hills hastening towards Landeck, with sober face, coat slung by its arms at his back, and jaunty cock-feathered hat on the back of his head, they did not meet a soul till they came to Ladis. As a rule these hurrying ones passed them with a preoccupied ‘Grüss Gott!’ and a hungry look which craved news but grudged the time. One stopped for a moment and asked anxiously, “Is it true, then, Herr? Is it war?” And Ray answered him, “With Servia, yes! How much more no man knows.” “War is the devil,” said the man soberly, and hurried on. They talked cheerfully,--of the folks at home and all the recent happenings there,--dived into happy reminiscence of their own feelings towards one another, and how and when and where these had begun to crystallise into the radiant certainty of mutual love,--and more than once, in the solitude of the little mountain sanctuaries where they stopped at times for a rest, Ray caught her to him and kissed her passionately in the overflowing fulness of his heart. It was the most entrancing walk Lois had ever had, and the glow in her face and the star-shine in her eyes told their own tale. They crossed the river where the road wound away into Kaunser-Tal, and again by the bridge at Prutz, and six o’clock found them within sight of the castle of Siegmundsried, with the pretty little village of Ried below. “We’ll stop the night there,” said Ray. “We’ve done about ten miles and all uphill, and that’s quite enough for a first day. How are the feet?” “First rate. I feel as if I could go on for ever.” “If you went on for ever you’d wish you hadn’t next day. We’ve got a long way to go and there’s no great hurry,--unless you feel as if you’d like to get it over and done with.” “Oh, but I don’t. I’d like it to last for ever and ever.” “Mr and Mrs Wandering Jew,” laughed Ray. “What would your mother say?” “She would say, ‘She’ll be all right since she’s with Ray.’” “See what it is to have a good character,” and they turned into the ‘Post’ and demanded rooms and supper.