"Oh," he said loftily, "that’s all rot, Bob. Money’s something, of course, but lots of girls don’t think much about it. Look at old Gordon Snagg. He’s supposed to be worth half a million; they say he paid ten thousand for his knighthood; do you think Marjory would have had him if he’d have proposed to her? Give sentiment half a chance. Surely, it is possible to believe that the girl you’re going to marry has some other ideas but those of your bank balance?" Bob would not give in. "Wait until old Mrs. Rider gets going," he exclaimed sententiously. "We shall hear some home truths then, old chap, and just when we were beginning to enjoy ourselves. By Jove, isn’t it a day! Look at the sun on the old Rothhorn; isn’t it splendid, Dick? and it rises upon our hour of woe. Well, I suppose the ancient martyrs went through this kind of thing; but I’m hanged if I wouldn’t sooner go to the dentist any day. What shall we say to the old girl? How shall we tell her that the truth—?" "I shall tell her for Marjory’s sake. Why, I believe she’s up at the window there, and Nellie as well. Don’t you see them, Bob?" The girls were giggling behind the sun-blind of a third-floor window, but they disappeared almost instantly when their object of attracting attention had been achieved. It still wanted ten minutes to the first breakfast-bell, and a few active folk had now appeared to enjoy the sunshine, or to drag luges up the ice-run and have a "canter" down before the coffee. The latter idea appealed to the boys; and getting their luges from the hall, they went up to the starting-point. This was the moment, however, when a little procession appeared upon the mountain track above them; and being attracted by the novelty of the spectacle, they stood to see it pass. "They’re soldiers, aren’t they, Bob?" "Looks very much like it. What can they be doing up here?" "Would it be about the story? Surely, they can’t have found the man?" "I wouldn’t wonder; why, here’s our little Frenchman, who wanted to tell us all about it yesterday. He’ll know what’s up; let’s ask him." "But he doesn’t understand your French!" Bob was not to be daunted. Walking across the snow to the edge of the wood, he took off his hat to the Frenchman, and asked him the question: "What are they doing up there, monsieur?"