"Now, when the two giants met, they stopped, looked one at the other and measured his strength. Well, it naturally fell about that they decided to prove their strength; in the struggle, sad to tell, Haymo killed Tirsus. Poor giant Haymo. Big as he was, he wept, for he had not meant to harm his giant comrade. At length, to ease his mind, he determined to build an abbey on the spot, as that seemed to be the solace for all evils, in those days. And then Haymo would become a monk, and for eighteen whole years he would weep and weep as penance for the deed. "But poor Haymo had more than he bargained for. He did not know that the Devil had claimed this same spot; no sooner did Haymo bring the stones for the foundation of his church than the Devil came and pulled them down. But Haymo persisted, for he really must keep his vow; and evidently he conquered the Devil himself, for the abbey stands, as you see, and these are the two statues of the giants guarding the portal of the church, so that the Devil may not come, I suppose." [Illustration: STATUE OF ANDREAS HOFER, NEAR INNSBRUCK.] "Poor Haymo," said Ferdinand. "What a hardship to weep for eighteen years, _nicht wahr_, Leopold?" "_Yawohl_," came the stolid reply, while the two men chuckled softly. It is a peculiarity of Tyrol that, not until one attains middle age at least, does he begin to appreciate humor the least bit. Children are always too serious to admit of "fun" in their prosaic lives, so that, were it not for the elderly people, humor might eventually die out altogether in Tyrol, so serious a nation are they. "Shall we go inside, father?" asked Leopold. "We have not time; night will overtake us, and we must go on to Schloss Amras yet. There really is little to see, however." And while the lads strained their necks and eyes to catch a glimpse of the beautiful paintings upon the outside walls of the abbey, the wonderful gilding and stucco, the horses disappeared around a bend in the road, and it was lost to sight. Now they commenced to climb, for the road is always up and up in Tyrol. Below them lay the wonderful view of Innsbruck, with the Inn running gayly along; there, too, was the fair abbey with its two giants carved in stone, watching ever at the portal. "Have you boys any idea where we are?" asked Herr Hofer. Both shook their heads negatively. "All this country hereabouts is alive with interest attaching to Andreas Hofer, our patriot," replied he. "Here, at this very Gasthaus (inn) was where he made his last effort against the enemy. We shall learn more of it as we go along," he continued, "but there is not much use to stop here now. We go a few steps further to the Schloss."