At length, when all was ready, Rollo bade the innkeeper good by, and set out on his journey. The guide went first, driving the horse before him, and Rollo followed, with his alpenstock in his hand.
They soon passed out of the village, and then travelled along a very pleasant road, which skirted the foot of the mountain range,—all the time gradually ascending. Rollo looked out well before him, whenever he came to a straight part of the road, in hopes of seeing his uncle; but Mr. George was nowhere in view.
Presently he came to a place where there was a gate, and a branch path, turning off from the main road, directly towards the mountain. Here Rollo, quite to his relief and gratification, found his uncle. Mr. George was sitting on a stone by the side of the road, reading.
He shut his book when he saw Rollo and the guide, and put it away in his knapsack. At the same time he rose from his seat, saying,—
"Well, Rollo, which is the way?"
"I don't know," said Rollo.
The guide, however, settled the question by taking hold of the horse's bridle, and leading him off into the side path. The two travellers followed him.
The path led through a very romantic and beautiful scene of fields, gardens, and groves, among the trees of which were here and there seen glimpses of magnificent precipices and mountains rising very near, a little beyond them. After following this path a few steps, two girls came running out from a cottage. One of them had a board under her arm. The other had nothing. They both glanced at the travellers, as they passed, and then ran forward along the road before them.
"What do you suppose those girls are going to do?" asked Rollo.
"I can't conceive," replied Mr. George. "Some thing for us to pay for, I'll engage."