Tom threw back his head with a defiant gesture.

“Well, my lord; and I am ready!” he said.

“Very good, Tom; I thought as much.  You did not love our dark-skinned friend much better than I did.  I think we shall find him lurking in wait for us somewhere amid the snows of the St. Bernard Pass.  Hast ever heard of the St. Bernard, Tom, and the good monks there?”

“I think I have,” answered Tom, who had heard so many new things of late that he could not be expected to keep them all in mind together.

“Well, it may be we shall have to seek their hospitality yet; although our way lies across the Little St. Bernard, as it is called, that ancient pass which Hannibal and his host crossed when they marched through the snows of Switzerland to pour themselves upon the fertile plains of Italy.  It is to this very day the only route by which those snowy Alps may be crossed; and we must find our way thither, Tom, and go down to the fair city of Turin.”

“Is that where we are going?”

“Ay; hast heard of Victor Amadeus, Duke of Savoy?”

“Is he not one of the Allies?”

“Yes; albeit for a while he sided with the French King, who did much to hold his fidelity.  But now he is one of the Allies, and he is sore beset by the armies of Louis.  The King of Prussia is about to send relief; but His Majesty is tardy, and the snows of winter lie thick in his land, hindering rapid action.  It is our part to take the Duke news of the welcome aid, and of other matters I need not be particular to name; and we shall need all our wits about us to carry this matter to a successful issue.”

“You mean that the pass will be watched?”

“Yes; we shall be certain to fall in with spies of the French King, perhaps with Sir James himself.  He has left England, so much is known; and though he may be at the court of France, yet it may be our hap to light upon him at any time.  He is a man of cunning and resource and ferocity.  We shall want our best wits and our best swordsmanship if we are to cope with him.”

Tom’s eyes sparkled with excitement and joy.

“And is the mountain pass the only way of getting into Italy, for I have heard that Savoy lies in that land?” said Tom.

“Ay; Italy has had its strange vicissitudes of fortune, and has been divided and redivided into duchies and kingdoms, till it needs a clever scholar to tell her history aright.  But it is enough for our purpose that Savoy lies just beneath those grim mountains which we must scale; and that for the present no other entrance is possible.”

“But there are other ways then?”

“Why, yes, we could at other times go by sea; but now that the Spaniards are seeking to win back the rock of Gibraltar, which we have lately reft from them, and which Marlborough says must never be yielded up again, we cannot safely try that way; for we might well fall into the hands of some Spanish vessel, and languish, unknown and uncared for, in Spanish dungeons.  We cannot travel through France, and reach it from the shores of Genoa; because it were too great peril for Englishmen to ride through the dominions of the French monarch.  So we must needs land at some friendly Dutch port, and ride through their country, and so into Westphalia, and thence to these mountain regions which cut us off from our destination.