In the Quarter

Nani did not come ``glei'' – but she came pretty soon, bringing with her two brimming milk-pails as an excuse for the delay.

She and Sepp engaged at once in a conversation, to which the colonel listened with feelings that finally had to seek expression.

``I believe,'' he said in a low voice, ``that German is the language of the devil.''

``I fancy he's master of more than one. And besides, this isn't German, any more than our mountain dialects are English. And really,'' Ruth went on, ``if it comes to comparing dialects, it seems to me ours can't stand the test. These are harsh enough. But where in the world is human speech so ugly, so poverty-stricken, so barren of meaning and feeling, and shade and color and suggestiveness, as the awful talk of our rustics? A Bavarian, a Tyroler, often speaks a whole poem in a single word, like – ''

``Do you think one of those poems is being spoken about our supper now, Daisy?''

``Sybarite!'' cried Ruth, with that tinkle of fun in her voice which was always sounding between her and her parents; ``I won't tell you.'' The truth was she did not dare to tell her hungry companions that, so far as she had been able to understand Sepp and Nani, their conversation had turned entirely on a platform dance – which they called a ``Schuh-plattl'' – and which they proposed to attend together on the following Sunday.

But Sepp, having had his gossip like a true South German hunter-man, finally did ask the important question:

``Ach! supper! du lieber Himmel!'' There was little enough of that for the Herrschaften. There was black bread and milk, and there were some Semmel, but those were very old and hard.

``No cheese?''

``Nein!''

``No butter?''

``Nein!''

``Coffee?''

``Yes, but no sugar.''

``Herr Je!''

When Sepp delivered this news to his party they all laughed and said black bread and milk would do. So Nani invited them into her only room – the rest of the ``Hütterl'' was kitchen and cow-shed – and brought the feast.

A second Sennerin came with her this time, in a costume which might have startled them, if they had not already seen others like it. It consisted of a pair of high blue cotton trousers drawn over her skirts, the latter bulging all round inside the jeans. She had no teeth and there was a large goiter on her neck.

``Good Heavens!'' muttered the colonel, setting down his bowl of milk and twisting around to stare out of the window behind him.

``Poor thing! she can't help it!'' murmured Ruth.

``No more she can, you dear, good girl!'' said Rex, and his eyes shone very kindly. Ruth caught her breath at the sudden beating of her heart.

What was left of daylight came through the little window and fell upon her face; it was as white as a flower, and very quiet.

Dusk was setting in when Sepp made his appearance. He stood about in some hesitation, and finally addressed himself to Ruth as the one who could best understand his dialect. She listened and then turned to her father.

``Sepp doesn't exactly know where to lodge me. He had thought I could stay here with Nani – ''

``Not if I can help it!'' cried the colonel.

``While,'' Ruth went on – ``while you and Rex went up to the Jaeger's hut above there on the rocks. He says it's very rough at the Jagd-hütte.''

``Is anyone else there? What does Sepp mean by telling us now for the first time? '' demanded the colonel sharply.

``He says he was afraid I wouldn't come if I knew how rough it was – and that – '' added Ruth, laughing – ``he says would have been such a pity! Besides, he thought Nani was alone – and I could have had her room while she slept on the hay in the loft. I'm sure this is as neat as a mountain shelter could be,'' said Ruth – looking about her at the high piled feather beds, covered in clean blue and white check, and the spotless floor and the snow white pine table. ``I'd like to stay here, only the – the other lady has just arrived too!''

``The lady in the blue overalls?''

``Yes – and – '' Ruth stopped, unwilling to say how little relish she felt for the society of the second Sennerin. But Rex and her father were on their feet and speaking together.

``We will go and see about the Jagd-hütte. You don't mind being left for five minutes?''

``The idea! go along, you silly boys!''

The colonel came back very soon, and in the best of spirits.

``It's all right, Daisy! It's a dream of luxury!'' and carried her off, hardly giving her time to thank Nani and to say a winningly kind word to the hideous one, who gazed back at her, pitchfork in hand, without reply. No one will ever know whether or not she felt any more cheered by Ruth's pleasant ways than the cows did who were putting their heads out from the stalls where she was working.

The dream of luxury was a low hut of two rooms. The outer one had a pile of fresh hay in one corner and a few blankets. Some of the dogs were already curled up there. The inner room contained two large bunks with hay and rugs and blankets; a bench ran where the bunks were not, around the sides; a shelf was above the bunks; there was a cupboard and a chest and a table.

``Why, this is luxury!'' cried Ruth.

``Well – I think so, too. I'm immensely relieved. Sepp says artists bring their wives up here to stay over for the sunrise. You'll do? Eh?''

``I should think so!''

``Good! then Rex and I and Sepp and the Dachl'' – he always would say ``Dockles'' – ``will keep guard outside against any wild cows that may happen to break loose from Nani. Good night, little girl! Sure you're not too tired?''

Rex stood hesitating in the open door. Ruth went and gave him her hand. He kissed it, and she, meaning to please him with the language she knew he liked best, said, smiling, ``Bonne nuit, mon ami!'' At the same moment her father passed her, and the two men closed the door and went away together. The last glimmer of dusk was in the room. Ruth had not seen Gethryn's face.

``Bonne nuit, mon ami!'' Those tender, half forgotten – no! never, never forgotten words! Rex threw himself on the hay and lay still, his hands clenched over his breast.

The kindly colonel was sound asleep when Sepp came in with a tired but wagging hound, from heaven knows what scramble among the higher cliffs by starlight. The night air was chilly. Rex called the dog to his side and took him in his arms. ``We will keep each other warm,'' he said, thinking of the pups. And Zimbach, assenting with sentimental whines, was soon asleep. But Gethryn had not closed his eyes when the Jaeger sprang up as the day broke. A faint gray light came in at the little window. All the dogs were leaping about the room. Sepp gave himself a shake, and his toilet was made.

``Colonel,'' said Rex, standing over a bundle of rugs and hay in which no head was visible, ``Colonel! Sepp says we must hurry if we want to see a `gams.'''

The colonel turned over. What he said was: ``Damn the Gomps!'' But he thought better of that and stood up, looking cynical.

``Come and have a dip in the spring,'' laughed Rex.

When they took their dripping heads out of the wooden trough into which a mountain spring was pouring and running out again, leaving it always full, and gazed at life – between rubs of the hard crash towel – it had assumed a kinder aspect.

Half an hour later, when they all were starting for the top, Ruth let the others pass her, and pausing for a moment with her hand on the lintel, she looked back into the little smoke-blackened hut. The door of the inner room was open. She had dreamed the sweetest dream of her life there.

Before the others could miss her she was beside them, and soon was springing along in advance, swinging her alpenstock. It seemed as if she had the wings as well as the voice of a bird.

Der Jaeger zieht in grünem Wald
Mit frölichem Halloh!

she sang.

Sepp laughed from the tip of his feather to the tip of his beard.