’ ‘Gammon!’ burst from the captain, who had just tossed off a glass of Madeira. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. “Uh, can you get me a soda or something?” She said, shielding her exposed teeth with her hand. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders.
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