CHASSEURS-ALPINS' BAGGAGE: LA GRAVE, FRANCE 



Dunnage bags brought by mules from St. Christophe. 

 Their owners came over the Col (pass) de la Lauze 

 (11,625 feet) in a practice climb. They made the trip 

 in twelve hours, seven of which were spent crossing 

 ice and snow. 



ON THE DOEOMITEN STRASSE 



A tunnel high above Ampezzo-Tal, where 

 one takes a last look at the beautiful valley, 

 the white patch that is Cortina, and the road 

 that parallels the tiny river into Italy before 

 turning into the high, wild Falzarego-Tal. 



place and a fearful temptation to pho- 

 tographers, but not even a surgeon-gen- 

 eral would ask for us leave to photograph 

 it ; and, because of his kindness, we took 

 no surreptitious snaps. Franzensfeste is 

 not more stern, but then Franzensfeste, 

 directly upon the Brenner, with railway 

 trains passing through its walls, is a mere 

 show place today. The real forts are 

 better concealed. 



Then, too, although Franzensfeste sits 

 by the classic highroad from Austria to 

 Italy, it is not upon the frontier ; nor 

 are the forts about Bozen, although they 

 are nearer to it ; but those at Schluder- 

 bach, Tre Croci, and Buchenstein face the 

 enemy directly. In view of recent events, 

 it would seem that no forts are of great 

 service — men and guns are the real mu- 

 nitions of war. 



Austria and Italy both have believed 

 in their efficiency — fort opposes fort 



along the frontier — only, as said before, 

 those Italian are not so obvious. France 

 built them, too, along the line of her 

 great mountains facing Italy, and trained 

 her Chasseurs- Alpins for their defense. 



THE MOUNTAIN SOLDIER IN THE ElEED 



In the long summer days upon the 

 higher passes one meets this light, moun- 

 tain artillery marching gaily upon long 

 practice "hikes," or climbing tests, tak- 

 ing ranges, making maps, or resting 

 lazily on the soft, elastic turf. Pleasant 

 lads they are, none five and twenty, 

 flashing white teeth and dancing eyes on 

 the stranger. Swinging toward you upon 

 the open road, they present a curious ap- 

 pearance, for an alpenstock thrust in the 

 knapsack sticks far above each head. At 

 a distance they look like little toy sol- 

 diers, hook all ready to fasten them to 

 the Christmas trees. I may be pardoned 



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