and possessed a dry sense of humour.
“Is it possible to get maps of this district, Jo?” asked Pamela Trent, pushing back a dark curl which kept annoyingly straying into her eyes.
Their group had gone a little ahead of the rest; they were just coming to the bridge across the stream dividing Briesau from the beginning of the Tiern valley. Jo paused for a moment.
“I don’t think you can get any large-scale maps. Lots of ordinary maps of Austria and the Tyrol, of course.
But the Tiernsee and Briesau do look awfully tiny on those. I say, though – I’ve an idea! Why shouldn’t we Chaletians get together and make you a map ourselves? I’m sure Miss Wilson would help. She’ll probably think it’s jolly good practice for our geography, not to mention Guides. We’ll ask her as soon as we get back.”
It can be related in passing that Miss Wilson, who was responsible for geography as well as science throughout the Chalet School, was delighted to approve this scheme. The Fifth, Joey’s form, were entrusted with the map-making. With Miss Wilson’s assistance, they were able to produce a clear and workmanlike map of the Tiernsee and surrounding districts, and the visitors found it of great practical help.
The valley road lay partly through woods and partly through open meadows. Everywhere it was intensely still, the silence broken only by the laughing chatter of the girls and occasionally, as they went higher up the valley, by the distant tinkle of cow-bells.
“Whatever is that over there?” asked Patricia Davidson suddenly, pointed to her right when they were about three miles along the valley. “Surely it can’t be a road? I pity anyone walking along that !” Frieda Mensch looked round and smiled when she saw where Patricia was pointing. She explained that Patricia was actually looking at the stony bed of a large stream: this always dried up completely during the summer, although in just a few weeks’ time the stones would be covered again by the noisy stream rushing down to the Tiernsee.
“You’ll have to come up here and see, later on this month. It’s quite worth the journey, I can tell you,”
declared Joey.
“Well, I’m sure you’re right – must be, of course – but at the moment it’s quite hard to believe it’s really a river bed,” said Joan Hatherley.
And Pamela Trent, whose black hair and deep blue eyes were inherited from her Irish mother, observed:
“Indeed, yes! Now I could show you quite a few roads in the west of Ireland that look just like that! We go every summer to stay with my grandmother, and my father always complains that he can’t tell the road from the bog!”
At the mention of Ireland, Pamela became caught up in an animated conversation with Deira O’Hagan, one of the Chalet School prefects, a good-looking Irish girl whose family came from County Cork. Deira and Pamela had to answer a lot of questions about Ireland. In particular, Bette Rincini and Gertrud Steinbrücke, both Tyroleans, were interested to hear more about a country of which they knew very little.
The road was getting gradually steeper and rougher as the party went further up the valley. They were now nearing he foot of the giant Tiernjoch, the highest mountain in the district; its steep summit was still wreathed in clouds, although the afternoon sun had long since chased away the morning’s mist from all the lower peaks and the sky was a soft blue.
Bette Rincini, as head-girl, was mainly responsible for the expedition; consulting her watch, she called up that there would now be a twenty-minute interval, after which they must start the return journey. During the pause they could either rest in enjoy the view, or push on a little further to see whether there might be an even better view round the next corner.
Bette rejoined the group that she had been with, who had all chosen to sit and rest; and conversation was resumed.
Joan Hatherley, sauntering up with Joey, broke off the discussion they
“Is it possible to get maps of this district, Jo?” asked Pamela Trent, pushing back a dark curl which kept annoyingly straying into her eyes.
Their group had gone a little ahead of the rest; they were just coming to the bridge across the stream dividing Briesau from the beginning of the Tiern valley. Jo paused for a moment.
“I don’t think you can get any large-scale maps. Lots of ordinary maps of Austria and the Tyrol, of course.
But the Tiernsee and Briesau do look awfully tiny on those. I say, though – I’ve an idea! Why shouldn’t we Chaletians get together and make you a map ourselves? I’m sure Miss Wilson would help. She’ll probably think it’s jolly good practice for our geography, not to mention Guides. We’ll ask her as soon as we get back.”
It can be related in passing that Miss Wilson, who was responsible for geography as well as science throughout the Chalet School, was delighted to approve this scheme. The Fifth, Joey’s form, were entrusted with the map-making. With Miss Wilson’s assistance, they were able to produce a clear and workmanlike map of the Tiernsee and surrounding districts, and the visitors found it of great practical help.
The valley road lay partly through woods and partly through open meadows. Everywhere it was intensely still, the silence broken only by the laughing chatter of the girls and occasionally, as they went higher up the valley, by the distant tinkle of cow-bells.
“Whatever is that over there?” asked Patricia Davidson suddenly, pointed to her right when they were about three miles along the valley. “Surely it can’t be a road? I pity anyone walking along that !” Frieda Mensch looked round and smiled when she saw where Patricia was pointing. She explained that Patricia was actually looking at the stony bed of a large stream: this always dried up completely during the summer, although in just a few weeks’ time the stones would be covered again by the noisy stream rushing down to the Tiernsee.
“You’ll have to come up here and see, later on this month. It’s quite worth the journey, I can tell you,”
declared Joey.
“Well, I’m sure you’re right – must be, of course – but at the moment it’s quite hard to believe it’s really a river bed,” said Joan Hatherley.
And Pamela Trent, whose black hair and deep blue eyes were inherited from her Irish mother, observed:
“Indeed, yes! Now I could show you quite a few roads in the west of Ireland that look just like that! We go every summer to stay with my grandmother, and my father always complains that he can’t tell the road from the bog!”
At the mention of Ireland, Pamela became caught up in an animated conversation with Deira O’Hagan, one of the Chalet School prefects, a good-looking Irish girl whose family came from County Cork. Deira and Pamela had to answer a lot of questions about Ireland. In particular, Bette Rincini and Gertrud Steinbrücke, both Tyroleans, were interested to hear more about a country of which they knew very little.
The road was getting gradually steeper and rougher as the party went further up the valley. They were now nearing he foot of the giant Tiernjoch, the highest mountain in the district; its steep summit was still wreathed in clouds, although the afternoon sun had long since chased away the morning’s mist from all the lower peaks and the sky was a soft blue.
Bette Rincini, as head-girl, was mainly responsible for the expedition; consulting her watch, she called up that there would now be a twenty-minute interval, after which they must start the return journey. During the pause they could either rest in enjoy the view, or push on a little further to see whether there might be an even better view round the next corner.
Bette rejoined the group that she had been with, who had all chosen to sit and rest; and conversation was resumed.
Joan Hatherley, sauntering up with Joey, broke off the discussion they
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