Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. There was no railway beyond Frutigen in those days; they sent their baggage by post to Kandersteg, and walked along the mule path to the left of the stream to that queer hollow among the precipices, Blau See, where the petrifying branches of trees lie in the blue deeps of an icy lake, and pine-trees clamber among gigantic boulders. "Nothin'—nothin'," returned Blueskin; "only I thought—" "You saw the hangman, no doubt," said Jack. I want to make you feel that here is a place where the crowd does not clamor nor ill-winds blow.
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