of our run to Lucerne, he showed a lively interest in the forthcoming
trip.

"I suppose," said he, when we had caught our first sight of Pilatus
(seen, as one might say, on his back premises), "I suppose that
anywhere in Switzerland, there ought to be no trouble about finding a
good pack-mule. Somehow one thinks of Switzerland and mules together,
just as one does of bacon and eggs, or nuts and raisins, and yet, I
can't recall ever having come across any mules in Lucerne, can you,
Monty?"

"No," I admitted, "but there were probably so many that one didn't
notice them--like flies, you know."

"Of course, the air of Switzerland is dark with mules and donkeys,"
said Molly, who always seemed quick to resent any obstacles thrown
between me and my mule. "One sees them in picture books. All that
Lord Lane will have to say is, 'Let there be mules,' and there will be
mules--strings of them. He will only have to pick and choose. The
thing will be to get a good one, and a nice, handsome, troubadour-sort
of man who can cook, and jodel, and sew, and put up tents, and keep
off murderers in mountain passes at night. It may take a day or two to
find exactly what is wanted."

"The best person in Switzerland to give Monty all the information he
needs," said Jack, evidently not wholly convinced, "is Herr Widmer,
who has an hotel high above Lucerne, on the Sonnenberg. He has another
in Mentone, and I've heard him tell how he has often come up from the
Riviera to Switzerland on horseback. He would be able to advise Monty
exactly how to go."