“About two weeks,” I answered.
“Ah! then, you are a resident as it were. Are there any good ascents to be made around here?”
“I have not been informed that there are. I am not a climber myself, except by funicular railway. I am always content to take other people’s figures for the heights. The only use I have for a mountain is to look at it.”
Then Baumgarten launched into a very interesting account of mountain dangers he had passed through. I found him a most entertaining talker, almost as fascinating as Johnson himself. He told me he was from Hanover, but he had been educated in Great Britain, which accounted for his perfect English.
“What hotel are you at?” he asked, as the band ceased playing.
“I am staying at the Post,” I answered. “And you?”
“I am at the Adler. You must come to dine with me some evening, and I will make it even by dining with you. We can thus compare table d’hôtes.”
Baumgarten improved on acquaintance in spite of his foppishness in dress. I almost forgot Johnson until one day I was reminded of him one day by Baumgarten saying, “I leave to-night for Innsbruck.”
“Innsbruck? Why, that’s where Johnson is. You ought to meet him. He’s an awfully good fellow. A little careless about his clothes, that’s all.”
“I should like to meet him. I know no one in Innsbruck. Do you happen to know the name of his hotel?”