McClintock had brought from Penang three mangosteen evergreens; and, wonders of wonders, they had thrived —as trees. “Have you much ability?” asked Ann Veronica. 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. The last time Pottiswick had called out the militia on suspicion of intruders in Remenham House, a large rodent had been all the spoil.
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