THE ROCKER. 
A Tale of the Alps. 
By FRANK SAVILE. 
Illustrated by C. Fleming Williams. 
LIKE him. v said the Bishop, 
stoutly. "Fit’s a rough 
diamond/ 9 
Curt hew lifted his shoul- 
ders, “ I hardly know 
him/' he admitted, t£ but I 
put the accent on £ rough/ 
Perhaps you don't agree with me, Miss 
Freinton ? ’’ 
The Bishop’s daughter shook her head. 
c ‘ "No/’ she said. To me lie seems a 
t h orou g h ge n 1 1 e m a ti / 5 
Carthcw gave another performance of what 
he had once heard a youthful admirer describe 
as “ his inimitable shrug.” 
There, again, 'seems’ is the word I 
should underline, but I don’t want to question 
your taste. X o\v what about this expedition ? 
Surely you’re joking ? You don’t mean the 
Gemsenhorn ? ” 
“ T have arranged to climb it. with Mr. 
O' R or Ice to-morrow/' answered Miss Fronton, 
placidly, and ( art hew nearly jumped from 
his seat. Even the Bishop allowed his usual 
smile to be corrupted by something very like 
a frown. 
“ My dear Muriel 1 ” he demurred. u Mr. 
O'Rorke is quite inexperienced, and the 
Gemsenhorn — is the Gemsenhorn.” 
She patted his arm. 
“ Dear old dad ! ’’ she purred. u It isn't 
the central peak we are going to attempt, it 
is the Needle/’ 
Her father stared at her as if he was an 
entomologist and she a new form of beetle. 
Then he laughed shortly. 
“ That, of course, is simply absurd/’ he 
retorted. “ The Gem sen horn Needle has 
never been climbed. Even Mr. O’Rorke is 
aware of that, for J myself told him all about 
