"I've often heard of a secret door in this room, though I never saw it. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. Behind the illustrious personages just described marched a troop of stalwart fellows, with white badges in their hats, quarterstaves, oaken cudgels, and links in their hands. He knew it was unnerving, he did it to everyone, even his own kin. Every care had been taken of it, as well as of himself, by the humane inmates of the house in which he had sought shelter. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside.
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