"Ever since then, the Tyrolese have made Frau Hütte the theme of a proverb 'Spart eure Brosamen fur die Armen, damit es euch nicht ergehe wie der Frau Hütte,' which really means 'Spare your crumbs for the poor, so that you do not fare like Frau Hütte,' a lesson to the extravagant."
There were endless more stories, all of which delighted the boys immensely, but we could not begin to relate them all, for Tyrol is so overladen with the spirit of the past, and with the charm of legend, that the very air itself breathes of fairies and giants, and days of yore, so that in invading its territory one feels he is no longer in this work-a-day world, but in some enchanted spot.
Early the next morning, up with the sun, all were ready for the drive home. As Herr Wirthe had predicted, the day was fair; as they drove away from the Inn, they caught a glimpse of Frau Hütte in the distance beyond Innsbruck, and, sure enough, there she sat on her mountain peak, with her great son safely sheltered in her arms.
"Shall we go to the salt mines, father?" asked Leopold, as they made their way along the mountain road.
"No, we cannot take the time; mother will be waiting for us and the women folks are impatient to visit, I know."
"They have wonderful salt mines at Salzburg," said Ferdinand. "Perhaps we may go there some time to visit them."
"Perhaps," replied his father. "But, while we are on the subject, did it ever occur to you that Salzburg means the 'town or castle of salt?'—for, in the old times, all towns were within castle-walls, to protect them from depredations of the enemy."
"Isn't it curious?" meditated Ferdinand.
The Inn River crossed, they continued to climb. Herr Hofer stopped to rest the horses; he glanced about him at the panorama below, and chuckled mirthfully.