When the pedestrians reached home in the early afternoon, a letter was awaiting Herr MÜller. It was from Herr Runkel, stating he was obliged to make a visit to Dalmatia to see his younger brother Max on business, and if Herr MÜller would care to make the trip with him, he would meet him at Villach in Carinthia the following Tuesday. Of course, there was new excitement now for the boys; the one wished to go with his father, while the other was urgent in his demands that the cousin remain with him. Finally it was arranged that both boys should accompany Herr MÜller, while Frau MÜller should remain with her relatives and join her husband and son at Gratz in Styria, on their return.

Leopold had never made a journey from home before, except the one time he had been to Innsbruck, quite recently, to meet his MÜller relations; so you may be certain there was one little heart which beat faster than normal.

"We shall leave to-morrow, then," decided Herr MÜller, "if you think you can be ready in that time," he added, addressing the Tyrolese youngster. "Because we shall want to visit some of the mountain towns; and if you boys want to see anything of Tyrol we had better walk than take the train."

"Oh, I could be ready to-night," ventured the child, delighted beyond measure. But his uncle assured him the morning would be ample time, and the two lads skipped away to talk over the plans.

As the sun was just beginning to peep above the mountaintop, the party of three set off, with many admonitions from Frau Hofer to her child, and many also from Frau MÜller that Ferdinand should not allow his cousin to be too adventuresome. But to this Leopold smiled.

"I am used to the mountains, auntie," he said. "Ferdinand will tire long before I do, you'll see."

How glorious it was to tramp thus, in vagabond fashion, over the mountains! They stopped wherever night overtook them, passed through Brixen, the wine center of much importance in Tyrol, and on through narrow defiles through which there seemed no exit. A bracing walk of six miles from Brixen brought them to Klausen, or The Pass, so completely hidden among mountains there was but room for one long, narrow street.

"Well, I had no idea Klausen was quite so narrow," Herr MÜller remarked. "I can well believe the tale of the barber, now."

"What barber, uncle?" asked Leopold.

"The barber of Klausen. You've never heard it? Well, there once lived a barber in this town who was old and full of rheumatism; he had a client whom he must shave every morning; but the poor barber found it very difficult to descend three flights of steps from his dwelling and ascend three more on the opposite side of the street, in order to shave his customer. He could not afford to lose this fee, yet it was exceedingly painful for him to attempt the climb.

"One morning he opened his window and called to his neighbor. Upon hearing the barber's voice, the man in the opposite house opened his window and asked what was wanted.

"'Allow me,' said the ingenious barber. 'I am unable to descend the stairs this morning; my rheumatism is getting the better of me. But, in order that you may not lose your shave, if you will lean a little way out of your window, I shall be able to accomplish the duty quite as well as though you were sitting in your chair in your room.'

"For a moment the man hesitated; but, as the village was small, and there was but one barber, it was either a question of going unshaved, or of following the fellow's advice. Accordingly, he consented; he stretched his neck far out of the window, the barber placed the towel beneath his chin, and, with all the dexterity in his power, he proceeded to shave his client; and thenceforth the barber performed this operation in a similar manner, quite to the satisfaction of them both."

They passed on through the village of Waidbruck, the very center of romanticism; for here, right at the mouth of the Grodener-thal, rises the fascinating Castle of Trostburg, the home of the Counts of Wolkenstein; and here was born Count Oswald, the last of all the long line of Minnesingers or troubadours, who found employment and enjoyment in wandering from castle to castle, their harps or zithers under their arms, singing love-songs or reciting war-stories that stirred the young blood to action.

They climbed to the magnificent Castle of Hauerstein, so hidden among the mountain-peaks and dense woods that one might imagine it to be the palace of the Sleeping Beauty; and then they diverged a few miles up the ravine in order to visit Santa Claus' shops, for such might be called the village of St. Ulrich with its countless numbers of toy shops. In every cottage men, women and young children busy themselves from morning until night, from one year's end to the other, in making toys; carved animals for Noah's Arks, dolls and wagons, to supply the world's demand of the children. Here, too, the very language is different from any other spoken roundabout; for the inhabitants, primitive in language as in everything else, still cling to the tongue of the Romans, which is to-day known as the Ladin or Romansch tongue.

They passed the night at Botzen, and, as the sun sunk behind the lofty mountains just beyond, a gorgeous glow overspread their entire summit.

"Isn't it beautiful!" remarked the two lads almost at the same moment.

"And it looks just like a rose-garden, too," added Leopold.

"It is a rose-garden, child," answered Herr MÜller. "It is called the Rosengarten or Gardl (Little Garden)."

"But is it possible, father," asked Ferdinand, "that roses will bloom on such lofty heights?"

"Well, this is the legend about it. Once upon a time, there lived an ugly dwarf who was king over all the underground sprites and elves in the mountains of Tyrol. He was in the habit of going forth from his palace, wrapped in a magic cloak which rendered him invisible. Now, it chanced that during one of these expeditions, Laurin went into the country of Styria, which lies right over there to the east. We shall pass that way on our return to Vienna. He saw a most beautiful maiden who was playing in a meadow with her attendants. Suddenly she disappeared from before the very eyes of her companions; they shouted, but no answer came back to them; in great dismay they fled back to the castle to report the news to the princess' brother Dietlieb.

"Dietlieb had heard of Laurin and his propensity for carrying off fair maidens; Dietlieb was a brave knight and had traveled far, so, as soon as he heard the news, he suspicioned at once that Laurin had done the deed. Immediately he set out for the city of Bern, where the king held his court, to demand that the dwarf be punished for his insolence. But the king was powerless against Laurin's magic; however, he warned Dietlieb not to attempt to approach too near the dwarf's domains, for it was guarded by four magnificent pillars of shining gold, and a fence of silken thread stretched between.

"'Remember,' said the king, 'should you happen to break so much as one strand of Laurin's fence, he will demand the forfeit of a foot and a hand.'

"In hot rage Dietlieb left the king's palace; what mattered to him Laurin's magic powers, if only he could recover his dear sister, the Princess Kunhild?

"With a few faithful companions he set out over the mountains until he reached the Rose-garden before the dwarf's underground abode, the very sight of which so enraged the worthy knight that he tore away the silken threads and destroyed the four gorgeous pillars.

"Within his subterranean palace, Laurin heard the destruction without; he mounted his war-horse, and putting on his magic belt, which endowed him with supernatural strength, he appeared at the door of the cave covered with sparkling jewels from head to foot.

"'Who has dared to enter my domains?' he shouted. 'And to destroy my garden? Let him who has done the deed stand forth that I may exact the punishment!'

"'Be not so hasty, Sir Laurin,' replied one of the knights, 'we will gladly repay you three, four-fold, if you wish, what you demand. The season is early and your roses will bloom again.'

"'I care not for your gold,' replied the indignant king; 'I have gold and to spare. I demand satisfaction, and satisfaction I shall have.'

"So saying, he spurred on his horse. There was a hotly contested battle; in the end, he was overpowered by Dietlieb, who had torn from him his magic belt, and thus robbed him of his strength.

"'Come,' said Laurin, 'let us not harbor ill feelings against one another. Come into my palace, Sir Knights, and drink to the health of the fair Kunhild.'

"He led them through the door of the cave, down several long corridors at the end of each of which was a stout door, one of bronze, another of steel and a third of gold, and entered the banquet hall, where the table was gorgeously decorated with gold and silver and most rare flowers.

"As the dinner drew to a close—at which Kunhild had presided, dazzling with jewels—the knights fell into a sound doze; when they awoke each was locked securely in a separate cell with no means of communicating one with the other. But, when all was still, Kunhild entered her brother's dungeon and released him by the aid of her magic arts, which she had learned while captive.

"'Take this ring,' she said, 'gather up your weapons and flee for your life.'

"'But will you go with me?' he said.

"'I will come later,' she replied. 'But make your escape now before Laurin discovers us.'

"Dietlieb did not require a second bidding. The magic of Laurin had penetrated through the stone walls of the cell, however, and he followed the knight to the outer earth and there they fought a terrible battle. When Laurin found himself yielding to the superior strength of the knight, he blew a shrill blast upon his golden horn, and five enormous giants appeared. Meanwhile Kunhild had not been idle; she had released the companions of her brother, who now rushed to the scene of the fray, and in spite of his magic arts, and his reinforcement of the five giants, Laurin was made prisoner and carried off into Styria. The garden was left uncared for, and little by little it died; but on just such evenings as this, one can see the gorgeous roses, which will bloom only as the sun descends."

"Do you think, father," said Ferdinand, "that there is really an underground palace in those mountains?"

"Well, that's what they say; many have tried to find the entrance, but the key has been lost; some day, one may be fortunate enough to find it, and then great riches will be his. It is my private opinion that within those mountains lie metals unknown to exist, and when one has opened the door to them, he will discover great riches in them."

"I should like to gather just one rose, uncle," said Leopold. "I think mother would like to have one, for she has never seen the Rosengarten."

"You cannot do that, my boy, because they are not real roses; the rocks of the mountain are composed of magnesia and chalk, which take on these beautiful colors when the rays of the setting sun fall upon them; and it is only the sharp, jagged points of those rocks which simulate roses, that you see."

Another night would see them out of Tyrol, much to the regret of Ferdinand, for he had never imagined such an interesting land to exist.

"How did Tyrol come to belong to our country, father?" asked Ferdinand.

"Well, in the olden times," answered Herr MÜller, "Tyrol was governed by counts who ruled like kings; but in 1363 a princess was the ruler; she was a woman with a very hasty temper and was nicknamed Pocket-mouthed Meg. Some say she received this nickname because her mouth was so extraordinarily large; but others tell a tale of her Bavarian cousin, who lived in the adjoining territory, who struck her on the mouth during a quarrel. It certainly was not a very gentlemanly thing for the Bavarian cousin to do, but children were not brought up so carefully as they are to-day, and you must not think too harshly of this little Bavarian, which sounds quite like barbarian. But Queen Margaret could never forgive nor forget that blow; in after years, when her own son was dead, and her kingdom must be left to some one, she preferred to give it to her Habsburg cousins, who were Austrians, so that ever since, with the exception of a few years in which several nations struggled for possession of it, it has belonged to the Austrian Empire.

"You know Emperor Maximilian I, who was one of our greatest rulers, loved Tyrol best of all his provinces," continued Herr MÜller.

"I don't blame him," replied Ferdinand, "I think he was quite right."