After the long, flat plains of Holland, Tom had thought the Baden
territory sufficiently mountainous; but now he was to make
acquaintance with the snow-topped peaks and ranges of Switzerland,
and his eyes dilated with awe and wonder when first he beheld the
dazzling white peaks standing out clear against a sunny sky.
He was not a youth of much imagination or poetry, but he did feel a
strange thrilling of the pulses as he looked upon this wonderful
sight.
But Lord Claud's face was cool and impassive as usual, and his
remark was:
"Very fine to look at, good Tom, but ugly customers to tackle. A
snowstorm up amongst those mountain peaks may well be the death of
either or both of us, and the snow will be our winding sheet."
"Have we to cross those snows, my lord? to scale those lofty
peaks?"
"We shall have plenty of snow, Tom, without scaling the peaks. At
this season the passes will be deep in snow. We shall have to trust
to a guide to take us safely over; and the very guide may be a spy
and a traitor himself."
"But, my lord, I thought you knew the way? I thought you had
crossed the pass once?"
"So I have, Tom; but these snow fields are treacherous places, and
the track shifts and changes with every winter's snow.
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