IN the; e;ggex-tai.: timdkr wagons going down from the: sawmills into bozln 



The cliffs of this narrow valley are of porphyry. 'The road gets through it as best it 

 may, sometimes on terraces in the cliff, sometimes carried upon arches, now tunneling 

 through a spur, and again leaping over the stream to avoid one. It is wide enough usually 

 for but one team ; turnouts at fairly frequent intervals allow passing, but there is necessaril}- 

 much whip-cracking and shouting about the never-ending turns and tunnels. 



exhilaration over difficulties, utterly in- 

 dififerent to roads and motors, their paths 

 lying high above them, on slippery rocks 

 or in the trackless silences of eternal 

 snows. In the wee sma' hours before the 

 dawn these Alpinists depart with ropes 

 and guides and ice-axes to come in tri- 

 umphantly at dusk — sunburnt, red-eyed, 

 a sprig of edelweiss in the cap. AA'ith 

 me they have nothing to do, nor I with 

 them. 



These are the three immemorial classes 

 of Alpine visitors ; but a witty American 

 some summers ago added a fourth — 

 Honk-touristen — those whose horn is 

 now ''heard on the hills," making every 

 Passenbummler and "average walker" 

 jump for their lives. 



The "average walker" — the "filler-in" 

 of all these classes perhaps, of two most 

 certainly — ah ! he needs no classification ; 

 there are too many of him. 



And he toils up this Tre Croci road 

 sometimes most cheerfully ; and at others 

 he rides ; for, being committed to no class 

 or rule, he may do as he pleases. 



the; lure; of thf opfn road 



And the kindlv road treats him to a 

 succession of enchanting views however 

 he goes, while b}^ turning aside for a few 

 steps one may visit the little Lago di Scin, 

 very tiny, very clear, set in soft turf and 

 mirroring larches and snow-peaks. Xone 

 of the Tyrolean lakes are large, and this 

 is of the tiniest; but so beautiful, so calm 



337 



