which to go over the pass, privately charging the driver to endeavour
to get a return fare from Meran so as to, partly at least, cover the
outlay. The carriage was drawn by five horses, one on each side of the
pole and three in front. They rested the first night at Bormeo, and
started early next day for over the pass, expecting to dine at
Franzenshöhe within sight of the snowy Ortler.

It was late in the season and the weather was slightly uncertain, but
they had a lovely Italian forenoon for going up the wonderful, zigzag
road on the western side of the pass. At the top there was a slight
sprinkling of snow, and clouds hung over the lofty Ortler group of
peaks. As they got lower down a steady persistent rain set in, and they
were glad to get to the shelter and warmth of the oblong stone inn at
Franzenshöhe, where a good dinner awaited them. After dinner the
weather cleared somewhat, but the clouds still obscured the tops of the
mountains, and the roads were slippery. Standish regretted this, for he
wanted to show his bride the splendid scenery of the next five miles
where the road zigzags down to Trefoi, each elbow of the dizzy
thoroughfare overhanging the most awful precipices. It was a dangerous
bit of road, and even with only two horses, requires a cool and
courageous driver with a steady head. They were the sole guests at the
inn, and it needed no practised eye to see that they were a newly
married couple. The news spread abroad, and every lounger about the
place watched them get into their carriage and drive away, one hind
wheel of the carriage sliding on its skid, and all breaks on.

At the first turning Standish started, for the carriage went around it
with dangerous speed. The whip cracked, too, like a succession of
pistol shots, which was unusual going down the mountain. He said
nothing to alarm his bride, but thought that the driver had taken on