slowly up behind. "Ah," she replied, "it is not that the cross is
left unregarded, nor is it age which has thus damaged it, but the wild
storms and lasting snows. A new cross is often erected, but it has not
long been exposed before it is again utterly defaced. The herdsmen
and senners, however, see the meaning under it, and it keeps them
straight, Fräulein."

Well-intentioned but slow of apprehension, these poor peasants cling
to a carved Christ, and feel a horrible alarm, as if you were offering
them a vacant creed, when you touch upon anything higher. Thus Moidel,
though very intelligent, looked somewhat grave and quiet until the
woods opened and she had to point out the senner huts. These were rude
but very picturesque log cabins, built in a clearing amongst a steep
chaos of rocks, with the glaciers and the majestic peak of the
Hoch Gall shining above all. Five were dwelling-houses, the rest
cattle-sheds and barns: our people's hut was the highest of the group,
and we had a long climb over the boulders before we reached it.

Seeing us approaching, good old Franz, who had gone forward in
advance, fastened on his apron and fried marvelous monograms and
circles of cream batter, of which we, the guests, were soon partaking
in the best room, otherwise the store-room and dairy. The hut was
divided into two compartments, both entered by adjoining doors from
the outside. Seated on milking-stools in somewhat dangerous proximity
to pans of rich cream, balls of butter and cheeses, the salt and
meal-bin served as our dining table. In the kitchen, Franz, resting
from his successful culinary labors, sat with Moidel and Jakob by the
hearth, where huge blocks of stone kept the fire in compass, the smoke
curling out of the door, and enjoyed in return some of our ham, wine
and almond cake.