We had wired from the Hospice for rooms, and expected to find the little "Déjeûner" cheerfully lighted, the plump landlady amusingly surprised to see the guests who had lately brought dissension into her house returning peaceably together. But the roadside inn was asleep like a comfortable white goose with its head under its wing. Not a gleam in any window, save the bleak glint of moonlight on glass. Joseph and Innocentina were behind us with their charges, whose stored crusts of bread they had probably shared. I knocked at the doors No responsive sound from within. I pounded with my walking stick. A thin imp of echo mocked us, and, my worst passions roused by this inhospitality falling on top of nine chocolate creams, I almost beat the door down. Two sleepy eyelid-windows flew up, and a moment later a little servant who had served me the other afternoon, appeared at the door like a frightened rabbit at bay. I demanded the wherefore of this reception; I demanded rooms and food and reparation. What, was I the monsieur who had telegraphed from the Hospice? But madame had answered that she had not a room in the house. The carriage of a large party of very high nobility had broken down late in the afternoon, and they were remaining for the night, until the damage could be repaired. What to do? But there was nothing, unless _les messieurs_ would sleep, one on the sofa, the other on the floor, in the room of the "déjeûner." "I suppose we'll have to put up with that accommodation, then. What do you say, Boy?" I asked. "I would rather go on," he replied, in a tone of misery tempered by desperate resignation, as if he had been giving orders for his own funeral. "Go on where?" I enquired grimly. "I don't know. Anywhere." "'Anywhere' means in this instance the open road." "Well--I'm not so _very_ cold, are you? And I'm sure they'll give us a little bread and cheese here." "I think it would be wiser to stop," said I. "We might see the ghost of Napoleon eating the _déjeuner_. Isn't that an inducement?" "Not enough." "I assure you that I don't snore or howl in my sleep. And you could have the sofa to curl up on." "Ye-es; but I'd rather go on. You and Joseph can stop. Innocentina and I will be all right." I was annoyed with the child. I felt that he fully deserved to be taken at his word, and deserted on the Pass, but I had not the heart to punish him. If anything should happen to the poor Babe in the Wood, I should never forgive myself; and besides, it would have been hopeless to seek sleep, with visions of disaster to this strange Little Pal of mine painting my brain red. "Of course I won't do anything of the kind," I said crossly. "If one party goes on, both will go on." I then snappishly ordered food of some sort, any sort--except chocolate,--and having, after a blank interval, obtained enough bread, cheese, and ham for at least ten persons, I divided the rations with Joseph and Innocentina, who had now come up.