CHAPTER X.
A MOUNTAIN STORM.
“He is more of a squib than ever,” laughed Colonel Rutland.
“I told you he was too good company to be left at home.”
“He’s a walking compendium of instruction, information, and anecdote,” added Mr. Lorimer. “I always told you, Rutland, that that boy hadn’t got his square head for nothing. He will make his mark some day.”
“We’re talking about you, Squib,” cried Uncle Ronald, catching sight of the boy. “Come along, we’re just starting for a walk. You shall tell us a story as we go.”
“Where are you going?” asked Squib.
“To the head of the glacier over there. It’s about five miles off they say; is that too much for you, eh?
“Five miles from here to the glacier,” said Squib, with a little twinkle in his eye; “but how far from the glacier to here?”
Then as the pedestrians looked at him and made no answer, the smile beamed all over his face, and he said,—
“I’ll tell you a story. There was an Austrian lieutenant, and he had ridden to Vienna from Prague. He was dining with a noble lady, and at table they were talking about the distance it was between the two towns. The lady turned and said, ‘You have just come, sir; you can tell us how far it is from Vienna to Prague.’ Then the young man put his hands together and said, ‘Excellency, I can tell you exactly the distance from Prague to Vienna, because I have ridden it; but I have never been from Vienna to Prague yet, so I cannot tell you how far it is.’ Then everybody began to laugh, and the lady said, ‘But, my dear sir, it is the same.’ But he put his hands together again and said, ‘Excellency, from Easter to Pentecost is forty days, but from Pentecost to Easter is three hundred and twenty days! The distance from Prague to Vienna I can tell you, but the distance from Vienna to Prague I do not know.’”