It was slow work zig-zagging down the great height, as the little car could not work its brakes very well, and it had to be held back by the rear mud-guards of the leading car. But the breathless descent was finally accomplished and in the valley they found a tiny garage, placed there for the repairing of damaged automobiles.
“I shouldn’t think it would pay you to keep up a shop in this isolated spot,” remarked Mr. Fabian, when the mechanic was working on Mrs. Alexander’s car.
“But you don’t know how many tourists cross the Alps in summer; everyone finds something wrong, or runs out of gas, by the time they reach this valley,” explained the man.
Before the tourists were ready to depart, a number of cars had driven up, asked for gas or repairs, and then were told of the land-slide on top of the peak. This spared them climbing, as they could go by another road. The passengers in these cars were most grateful to Mr. Fabian’s party for the information, thus several parties had been benefited, before a crimson car drove up and a handsome young man called to the mechanic.
“Is this the right road over Top Pass?”
“Yes, but you can’t pass,” returned the man, then he told of the experiences the people in the American party had just had.
“My, that must have been some excitement! Wish we had been there,” cried the other young man, eagerly.
“Are you an American?” asked Mr. Fabian, certain of it even as he spoke, because the accent and manner of speech was Yankee.
The two young men exchanged looks with each other, and one replied: “We lived in the United States for many years.”
This speaker was about twenty-two or three, but the other one was younger. They both were exceptionally good-looking and free in their manner. It could be readily seen that their car and clothes were of the best, and one would naturally conclude that they were wealthy young men touring Europe for pleasure.