le cretins;
but the French soldiers came, and they were capital doctors, they soon
killed the disease and the sick people, too. The French people knew
how to fight in more ways than one, and the girls knew how to
conquer too; and when he said this the uncle nodded at his wife, who
was a French woman by birth, and laughed. The French could also do
battle on the stones. "It was they who cut a road out of the solid
rock over the Simplon--such a road, that I need only say to a child of
three years old, 'Go down to Italy, you have only to keep in the
high road,' and the child will soon arrive in Italy, if he followed my
directions."

Then the uncle sang a French song, and cried, "Hurrah! long live
Napoleon Buonaparte." This was the first time Rudy had ever heard of
France, or of Lyons, that great city on the Rhone where his uncle
had once lived. His uncle said that Rudy, in a very few years, would
become a clever hunter, he had quite a talent for it; he taught the
boy to hold a gun properly, and to load and fire it. In the hunting
season he took him to the hills, and made him drink the warm blood
of the chamois, which is said to prevent the hunter from becoming
giddy; he taught him to know the time when, from the different
mountains, the avalanche is likely to fall, namely, at noontide or
in the evening, from the effects of the sun's rays; he made him
observe the movements of the chamois when he gave a leap, so that he
might fall firmly and lightly on his feet. He told him that when on
the fissures of the rocks he could find no place for his feet, he must
support himself on his elbows, and cling with his legs, and even
lean firmly with his back, for this could be done when necessary. He
told him also that the chamois are very cunning, they place
lookers-out on the watch; but the hunter must be more cunning than
they are, and find them out by the scent.

One day, when Rudy went out hunting with his uncle, he hung a coat
and hat on an alpine staff, and the chamois mistook it for a man, as
they generally do. The mountain path was narrow here; indeed it was
scarcely a path at all, only a kind of shelf, close to the yawning
abyss. The snow that lay upon it was partially thawed, and the
stones crumbled beneath the feet. Every fragment of stone broken off
struck the sides of the rock in its fall, till it rolled into the
depths beneath, and sunk to rest. Upon this shelf Rudy's uncle laid
himself down, and crept forward. At about