"What queer boats!" continued Rollo, looking out again upon the river. "And there is a long bridge leading over to the other side. May I go out and walk over on that bridge after breakfast?"
"Yes," said Mr. George, "you may go any where you please."
"But suppose I should get lost," said Rollo. "What should I do then?"
"I don't know," said Mr. George, "unless you should ask somebody to tell you the way to the Three Kings."
"But perhaps they would not understand English," said Rollo.
"Then you must say Trois Rois,[3] which is the French name for the hotel," rejoined Mr. George.
"But perhaps they would not understand French," said Rollo.
"No," replied Mr. George; "I think it probable they would not; for people talk German generally in this part of Switzerland. In that case you must ask the way to Drei Könige."
Here the waiter came in with the breakfast. It consisted of a pot of coffee, another of boiled milk, an omelette, some excellent cakes, and some honey. There was a long table extending up and down the room, which was a very large and handsome apartment, and there were besides several round tables in corners and in pleasant places near the windows. The breakfast for Mr. George and Rollo was put upon one of the round tables; and, in sitting down to it, Rollo took pains to place himself in such a manner that he could look out the window and see the water while he was eating.
"What a dreadful river that would be to fall into!" said Rollo. "It runs so swift and looks so angry!"