again."

From the cliff, sung to the air of a Tyrolese folk-song, came this
stanza:

Tell me, Ilka on the hill-top,
While the Alpine breezes blow,
Are thy golden locks as golden
As they were a year ago?
(Yodle) Hohli-ohli-ohli-ho!
Hohli-ohli-ohli-ho! Hohlio-oh!

The effect of the yodle, in which both the baritone of the cliff and
the Alpine soprano united, was so melodious that Mr. Hahn sprang to
his feet and swore an ecstatic oath, while Fritz, from sheer admiring
abstraction, almost stuck the lighted end of his cigar into his mouth.
The soprano answered:

Tell me, Hansel in the valley,
While the merry cuckoos crow,
Is thy bristly beard as bristly
As it was a year ago?
Hohli-ohli-ohli-ho!
Hohli-ohli-ohli-ho! Hohli-oh!

The yodling refrain this time was arch, gay--full of mocking laughter
and mirth. Then the responsive singing continued:

_Hansel_: Tell me, Ilka on the hill-top,
While the crimson glaciers glow,