from the tourist
kind seen in the hotels of Zurich and Lucerne--the kind which has no
real existence in a workaday world. I know now that the bald-headed man
spoke with a strong Scotch accent. I have met many of his kind since,
both ashore and afloat. The second engineer of the steamer "Mavis", for
instance, ought to have been his twin brother. I cannot help thinking
that he really was, though for some reasons of his own he assured me
that he never had a twin brother. Anyway the deliberate bald-headed Scot
with the coal-black beard appeared to my boyish eyes a very romantic and
mysterious person.

We slipped out unnoticed. Our mapped-out route led over the Furca Pass
towards the Rhone Glacier, with the further intention of following down
the trend of the Hasli Valley. The sun was already declining when we
found ourselves on the top of the pass, and the remark alluded to was
presently uttered.

We sat down by the side of the road to continue the argument begun half
a mile or so before. I am certain it was an argument because I remember
perfectly how my tutor argued and how without the power of reply I
listened with my eyes fixed obstinately on the ground. A stir on the
road made me look up--and then I saw my unforgettable Englishman. There
are acquaintances of later years, familiars, shipmates, whom I remember
less clearly. He marched rapidly towards the east (attended by a
hang-dog Swiss guide) with the mien of an ardent and fearless traveller.
He was clad in a knickerbocker suit, but as at the same time he wore
short socks under his laced boots, for reasons which whether hygienic or
conscientious were surely imaginative, his calves exposed to the public
gaze and to the tonic air of high altitudes, dazzled the beholder by the
splendour of their marble-like condition and their rich tone of young
ivory. He was the leader of a small caravan. The light of a headlong,
exalted satisfaction with the world of men and the scenery of mountains
illumined his clean-cut, very red face, his short, silver-white
whiskers, his innocently eager and triumphant eyes. In passing he cast
a glance of kindly curiosity and a friendly gleam of big, sound, shiny
teeth towards the man and the boy sitting like dusty tramps by the
roadside, with a modest knapsack lying at their feet. His white calves
twinkled sturdily, the uncouth Swiss guide with a surly mouth stalked
like an unwilling bear at his elbow; a small train of three mules
followed in