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CHAPTER XIII. 



A day's sport on the krammets berg. 



By half-past three the next morning I was downstairs, 

 and while breakfasting, Solacher was busy with his 

 frying-pan cooking the usual meal of schmarren. We 

 were soon off. The stars were shining brightly, yet as 

 we passed along the pine-wood I rather followed my 

 companion by the sound of his voice and his footsteps 

 than by the aid of sight. By the time we got to the 

 foot of the Krammets Berg however the darkness was 

 waning, and one by one the stars disappeared. The 

 strange faint dimness, similar to that which hovers over 

 the earth during an eclipse, began to spread ; the gloom 

 rolled back, and presently red tongues of brightness 

 announced that day was at hand. The Zug Spitz first 

 saw its coming, and flushed in growing refulgence over 

 the still night-bound world. As the day streamed down 

 its sides, the mists and vapours receded, and the moun- 

 tain-tops came forth, rising from out the cloudy ocean 

 below us as from the midst of the waters on the third 

 day of creation. Soon the whole chain of the Tyrolian 

 Alps was uncovered, and lay beaming before us in the 

 first glad flush of the morning. 



Above us, in the more immediate neighbourhood, the 

 forms of things now grew more distinct. It was no wild 



