66 DAYS IN THE OPEN 



one day at least, they were to be our fellow-trav- 

 ellers. 



The table d'hote that evening gave us the desired 

 opportunity to cultivate the acquaintance of the at- 

 tractive strangers, for they were seated directly 

 across the table from us. 



"Going over the Simplon tomorrow?" I ven- 

 ture to ask the gentleman. " Yes." Dead pause! 

 " I am sure that you enjoy Italy," is our next ef- 

 fort to make conversation. " Yes," a pause even 

 more absolutely dead than the preceding one. 

 What's the matter? Do they take us for pick- 

 pockets? We furtively examine our attire to see 

 if we are looking especially dowdy, but can 

 discover nothing very reprehensible. Possi- 

 bly they are diffident, so here goes for another 

 attempt : 



" Do you know at what time we start in the 

 morning? " Of course we know, have known for 

 weeks; but it is a question whose answer offers 

 good-sized opportunities for something more than 

 a monosyllable. 



" Six-thirty." We wait anxiously, but that is all. 

 Even the most obtuse individual must come to the 

 conclusion that the questioner is being snubbed; 

 quite courteously, but also very unmistakably 

 snubbed. Our American blood begins to boil 

 gently, and a solemn vow is registered then and 

 there to let these attractive but unfriendly people 

 severely alone. Meanwhile, they have been chat- 



