There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. "Leave the room," interposed Kneebone, angrily. Felix. Now drop it. ‘C’est ridicule. But, after all, what does that matter? He is very much taken with me.
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