But he, Emil, was going to take the train back, through the tunnel, in
the evening, to resume his circular walk at Goeschenen.
I, however, was going on, over the ridge of the world, from the north
into the south. So I was glad.
We climbed up the gradual incline for a long time. The slopes above
became lower, they began to recede. The sky was very near, we were
walking under the sky.
Then the defile widened out, there was an open place before us, the very
top of the pass. Also there were low barracks, and soldiers. We heard
firing. Standing still, we saw on the slopes of snow, under the radiant
blue heaven, tiny puffs of smoke, then some small black figures crossing
the snow patch, then another rattle of rifle-fire, rattling dry and
unnatural in the upper, skyey air, between the rocks.
'_Das ist schoen_,' said my companion, in his simple admiration.
'_Huebsch_,' I said.
'But that would be splendid, to be firing up there, manoeuvring up in
the snow.'
And he began to tell me how hard a soldier's life was, how hard the
soldier was drilled.
'You don't look forward to it?' I said.
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