It was on our way to call upon the Bears, that destiny seduced me to turn my head at a certain moment, and look into a shop window.  Suddenly the flame of my desire for the walking solo with a mule accompaniment (somewhat diminished lately, I confess) leaped up anew.  There were things in that window which made a man long to be a hermit.

“Mrs. Winston.”  I cried (Molly was driving), “for goodness’ sake stop.”

In an instant the car slowed down.  “What is the matter?” she implored.  “Are you ill?  Have we run over anything?”

“No, but look there,” I said eagerly.  “What an outfit for a camping tour!  My mouth waters only at sight of it.”

“Greedy fellow,” commented Jack from the tonneau.  “Drive on, Molly.  Get him past the shop.  He doesn’t really want any of those things, and wouldn’t use them if he had them.  The sooner he forgets the better.”

“Never shall I forget that Instantaneous Breakfast for an Alpiniste,” I fiercely protested, “and I will have it at any cost.  I know there’s no other shop on the Continent like this, and I shall buy an outfit for myself and mule, here, if I have to come back from Lucerne by train for it.”

“Hang your mule!” exclaimed Jack.  “I was hoping you’d forgotten all about him by this time, and had made up your mind to go on with us indefinitely.”

I saw reproach blaze through the talc triangle in Molly’s mushroom.  (Yet I thought she liked me, and had not, thus far, found “three a crowd.”)

“Lord Lane isn’t a chameleon, Jack,” said she, “that he should change his mind every few minutes. Of course he’s going to have his mule trip.  And as for this shop, all those dear little pots and kettles and things in the window are too cute for words.  He shall have them.”

Was I to be a bone of contention between husband and wife?

“Please, both of you come in and help me choose,” I meekly pleaded, in haste to restore the peace which I had broken.

We got out, and a small crowd collected round the car, Gotteland standing by with his chin raised and the exact expression of the frog footman in “Alice in Wonderland.”  One would have said that he saw, afar off, the graves of his ancestors, on the summit of some lonely mountain.

It was what Molly would have called a “lovely” shop, and it did business under the strange device:  “Magasin Suisse d’Equipment Sportif.”  The name alone was worth the money one would spend.  Everything to cover the outer, and nourish the inner sportsman, was to be had.  I felt that I could scarcely be lonely or sad if I possessed a stock of these friendly articles.  Jack’s ribald advice to buy a pelerine, and a green-loden Gemsjaeger hat with a feather, stirred me neither to smiles nor anger, for Molly and I were already deep in exploration.

The first thing I bought was a mule-pack.  Being a merciful man, I chose one of medium size, for already I could fancy myself becoming fond of the animal which was to be my companion in many wild and solitary places, and I did not wish to overburden him.  I then, aided and abetted by Molly, began to choose the pack’s contents.