"Parkhurst Boys" (continued 6)
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The keeper of the castle put us up for the night and was no end of a brick. There was rather a row with the boat fellow when we got back to Montreux. He got crusty about the boat being damaged, and wanted about two sovs! As it happened, we hadn’t got anything, as we gave the fellow at the castle five francs, and that cleared us out. We told the boat fellow to call at the inn to-morrow, and I hope to goodness the money will have turned up, as it’s a bit awkward. Jim has a cold.
Yours truly T. Hooker.
Please remember me to your young sister.
Montreux, August 13.
Dear Father,—Thanks awfully for the money; it was jolly to get it, and mother’s letter. It is very hilly about here. Jim’s cold is getting better. Would you mind telegraphing to us who is the winner of the Australian cricket match to-morrow, and how many Grace scored? In haste, Your loving son, Tom.
Riffel Hotel, August 18.
Dear Gus,—We’re awfully high up here—awful rum little inn it is. It was chock full, and Jim and I have to sleep under the table. There are about a dozen other fellows who have to camp out too, so it’s a rare spree.
We’re going to have a shot at the Matterhorn to-morrow if it’s fine. It looks easy enough, and Jim and I were making out the path with a telescope this afternoon. It’s rather a crow to do the Matterhorn. Some muffs take guides up, but they cost four or five pounds, so we’re going without.
That boat fellow at Montreux got to be a regular nuisance. In fact, that’s why we came on here a day earlier. He came up twice a day to the inn, and we couldn’t shake him off. We gave him a sov., which was twice what he had a right to. He swore he’d have two pounds or bring up a policeman with him next time. So we thought the best way was to clear out by the early train next morning, and I guess he was jolly blue when he found us gone. I send with this a faint sketch of some of the natives! What do you say to their rig?
It was a pretty good grind up to Zermatt, and we walked it up the valley. There wasn’t much to see on the way, and it’s a frightfully stony road. There were some fellows playing lawn-tennis at the hotel at Zermatt. One of them wasn’t half bad. His serves twisted to the leg and were awfully hard to get up. Jim and I wouldn’t have minded a game, only the fellows seemed to think no one wanted to play but themselves. We may get a game to-morrow on our way to the Matterhorn. It was a tremendous fag getting up here from Zermatt. I don’t know why fellows all come on, as there’s no tennis court or anything up here.
There’s an ice-field up here called a glacier, but it’s an awful fraud if you want skating—rough as one of Bullford’s fields at Rugby. A fellow told me it bears all the year round, but it’s got a lot of holes, so we don’t think we’ll try it. I expect we shall be home next week, as the pater thinks we’ve run through our money rather too fast. Remember me to your people and your young sister.
Yours truly, T. Hooker.
Zermatt, August 20.
Dear Gus,—We didn’t do the Matterhorn after all, as Jim screwed his foot. He’s awfully unlucky, and if it hadn’t been for the accident we might have got to the top; and of course it stops tennis too. We did get one game before we started up. Jim gave me fifteen in two games each set. I pulled off the first, but he whacked me the other two. It’s a beastly rough court, though, and the mountain was awfully in the light.
We hadn’t much difficulty finding the way to the Matterhorn, as there was a sign-post at the end of the village. We thought we might as well take the easy side, as the front of the hill is pretty stiff. Of course we had to take a good long round, which was a nuisance, as we meant to be back for table d’hôte at seven. When we got properly on to the side we put it on, but it was a good long grind, I can tell you. We weren’t sorry to get up to a snow slope and cool ourselves.
They ought to sweep a path across the snow, or fellows are very likely to lose their way. We lost ours, but we had a good lark on the snow snowballing. It got deep in one part, so we had to clamber up the rocks at the side to get to the top of the slope. It’s rather deceptive, distance, on the snow, for it took us an hour to do what seemed only a few yards. We got on to a flat bit after awhile, and had another turn on the snow.
It was rather a game rolling things down the slope. They went at an awful pace. The nuisance is the snow has a way of slipping from under you, and that’s how Jim and I came to grief. We were sitting on the edge of the slope watching a boulder slide, when we began to slide ourselves. We hadn’t our spikes on, or we might have pulled up. As it was, we got up no end of a speed down that slope. It was no joke. I yelled to Jim to lie flat, and not sit up, or he might pitch on his head. I don’t remember how we got on after that; I must have bumped my head, for when I pulled myself together I found I was sitting in the middle of a grass field with a jolly headache, and pretty well black and blue.
I was able to get up though, and looked about for old Jim. I can tell you it was no joke. I couldn’t see him anywhere, and thought he must have been buried in the snow. I can tell you, old man, it was rough on me for a quarter of an hour or so. But I found him at last, about a quarter of a mile down the field. He rolled, he said; he couldn’t get up, as his foot was screwed. So it was a pretty go, as I couldn’t carry him. If I hadn’t been quite so knocked about I might have tried; but Jim’s a good nine stone, so I might have dropped him. Luckily, some fellows came—they’d come to look for us, in fact, as we’d told the waiter we were going up the Matterhorn, and might not be back in time for dinner; and when we didn’t turn up, they guessed, I suppose, we might have come to grief. It was a good job they came, as Jim’s foot was rather bad. All the hotel turned out to see us get back. I had to be carried too, the last bit of the way, as I got fagged. It’s a sell we couldn’t get to the top, as it’s rather a crow to do the Matterhorn.
Jim’s foot is better to-day, but he’ll have to shut off tennis the rest of this season. I wish mother was here. She could look after Jim better than I can. In fact, the doctor here, rather a jolly fellow, says she and the pater had better come at once. I got him to write to the pater himself, as I was afraid it might make them think something was wrong if I did.
Please to remember me to your young sister.
T. Hooker.
Zermatt, August 22.
Dear Gus,—There’s a telegram from the pater to say they’ll be here to-morrow night. I’m rather glad, as Jim is feverish. The pater will have a good deal of tipping to do, as everybody here’s no end civil. Can’t write more, as I’m fagged. Remember me to your young sister.
T.H.
P.S.—I fancy we shall spend next summer in England—Jim and I. We don’t either of us think much of Switzerland.