The travelers spent two happy days with their friends in the herdsman's cabin. They would like to have spent the rest of the summer with them. Jack and Joe would like to have learned how to milk the goats and how to blow the great alpine horn.

But there were many other things which they wanted to do and to see in this wonderful little country of Switzerland, so they shouldered their knapsacks and started once more on the trail.

The way soon became steep and rocky. Gray clouds hid the snow-covered peaks. The wind blew cold, and the boys were glad of the hard climb to keep themselves warm.

They crossed one or two small alps where cows were feeding, and they stopped at a tiny cabin to ask for a drink of milk.

In the cabin they found a small boy, who was watching a large kettle of milk over an open fire. The boy said that his father had gone up the mountain to hunt for a lost cow, so he was making cheese from his goats' milk.

The Overall Boys were quite sure that they would be lonesome, if they had to stay away up there all alone. But this little boy whistled and sang and talked with his goats, calling them each by name. They really were having a jolly time together.

After the good drink of milk the travelers tramped on and up, while the gray clouds dropped lower and the wind grew colder. Soon fine white flakes began to frisk through the air and to dance on the boys' cheeks.

"Oh, Jack," called Joe, "it is snowing!"

"So it is!" shouted Jack. "It's snowing! It's really snowing, and it's summer time! Hurrah!"

The white flakes fell faster and thicker. In a few moments they were falling so fast and so thick the trampers could see only a short way ahead of them. It was hard climbing now. The path was steep and slippery. The boys had to stop often to get their breath, and their knapsacks suddenly grew very heavy.

"I suppose it is because we are up so high," said Jack. "The air is so thin up here we can't get enough of it to breathe. It is always like that on the high mountains, they say."

"I don't care," said Joe. "We are in a snow blizzard, anyhow. Just think of it!"

"I shouldn't care to lose our path," said Jack. "I guess it wouldn't be a very happy night for us if we did."

"Oh, Jack, I have lost the path already! I can hardly see you. My! How it snows! Where are father and mother?"

"Here we are!" shouted their father. "I think we are near the top of the Pass. I hear a dog barking. There is a house up at the top, where we can stay all night. Keep climbing, boys!"

Just then a great dog came bounding down the mountain toward them. He gave a short, quick bark, turned about and led the party safely up to the small hotel. Then away he bounded again to find other travelers, who might be lost in the snow and who needed his help. He was a St. Bernard dog, and he had saved the lives of many people on the high mountains.

It was a tired party that spent the night in the little hotel at the top of the Great Scheidegg Pass, but when morning came they were ready for another battle with the snow.

Of course the trail was covered, and the snow was too soft and too deep for them to tramp over it without snowshoes. The little party was snow-bound on the mountains in midsummer.

But the Overall Boys liked being snow-bound. They built a fine snow fort, with snow soldiers in it, and piles of snow cannon balls to keep enemies away from the little hotel.

The St. Bernard dog had a jolly time, too. Once he jumped against one of the snow soldiers, and over they went together. After that he seemed to be afraid of the soldiers and would not go near the fort, but ran around it, barking loudly.

Next morning the boys were out early to take a look at things.

"Oh, Jack," shouted Joe, "it froze in the night! There is a hard crust over everything!"

"So there is!" said Jack. "We don't need snowshoes now. We can go down the mountain on the crust."

And that is what they did. With the St. Bernard dog to show them the way, the party hurried down over the snow before the warm sun had time to soften the crust.

As they went lower, the snow rapidly grew less. Soon the boys saw lovely bluebells and alpine roses and other flowers holding their heads bravely up through the thin, white blanket.

A few moments later their own trail came in sight. It was no longer hidden by the snow. The St. Bernard dog gave a loud bark, wagged his tail, and bounded back up the mountain. His work for that party was done.