Another half an hour of uphill walking, partly on roads and partly over soaking meadows, took us to Seelisberg, where we stopped at the house of the owner of the second milkhouse, to get the key. The owner could not go with us because he had damaged his foot, by wearing great wooden shoes or _sabots_ armed with enormous spikes, while cutting grass on steep slopes. He was hospitable enough: unlike his dog, who was exceedingly anxious to attack us. The owner said--in the intervals of the dog's howls--that ice formed during the winter in the rear wall of his milkhouse and remained until about June. The milkhouse was in a little patch of woods against a small cliff, at the bottom of which were broken rocks. We had some difficulty in getting in, working for at least ten minutes at the lock, while drops of rain-water would occasionally drip into our coat collars. Just as I had given up hope, my companion succeeded in getting the key to turn. There were several pans, full of milk, placed to cool, and several barrels of potatoes; and, as at the first milkhouse, we found that the rear wall consisted simply of heaped up detritus built into a vertical position. Gentle air currents flowed from several large holes and from the cracks between the stones. From here we went by a path through woods and over meadows down to the lake, coming to the shore some distance to the west of the steamboat landing. Everything was soaking wet, and as we proceeded, I felt my clothes getting wetter and my shoes absorbing water like sponges until, when we came to an overflowing brook, wading through seemed rather pleasant. There is one advantage of getting thoroughly wet feet in the mountains: it makes crossing streams so much easier, as one does not delay, but simply steps right in. The lower milkhouse was on the shore of the lake, near the house of a fisherman, whose wife opened the door for us. There was some milk in pans and several barrels of wine; and on a board were a number of _ferras_ from the lake; the result of two days' catching in nets. This was the largest of the three milkhouses; although it did not have as many big holes in the rock wall as the others, but only the interstices between the blocks of rock, whence we could feel cool air flowing out. The woman said that the ice melted away by April or May, but that in winter the wine barrels were all covered with frost. She also said that the air coming from the clefts in summer was colder when the weather was warm, than when it was rainy. Doubtless the temperature of the draughts remains the same during the summer, but the air feels cooler to the hand when the outside air is hot.