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Then the landlord stood up； and surveyed all the things that were
lying on the floor。
〃That's a playful dog of yours；〃 said he to the man who had come in
with the brick。
〃He is not my dog；〃 replied the man sullenly。
〃Whose dog is it then？〃 said the landlord。
〃I don't know whose dog it is；〃 answered the man。
〃That won't do for me； you know；〃 said the landlord； picking up a
picture of the German Emperor； and wiping beer from it with his
sleeve。
〃I know it won't；〃 replied the man； 〃I never expected it would。
I'm tired of telling people it isn't my dog。 They none of them
believe me。〃
〃What do you want to go about with him for； if he's not your dog？〃
said the landlord。 〃What's the attraction about him？〃
〃I don't go about with him；〃 replied the man； 〃he goes about with
me。 He picked me up this morning at ten o'clock； and he won't
leave me。 I thought I had got rid of him when I came in here。 I
left him busy killing a duck more than a quarter of an hour away。
I'll have to pay for that； I expect； on my way back。〃
〃Have you tried throwing stones at him？〃 asked Harris。
〃Have I tried throwing stones at him！〃 replied the man；
contemptuously。 〃I've been throwing stones at him till my arm
aches with throwing stones； and he thinks it's a game； and brings
them back to me。 I've been carrying this beastly brick about with
me for over an hour； in the hope of being able to drown him； but he
never comes near enough for me to get hold of him。 He just sits
six inches out of reach with his mouth open； and looks at me。〃
〃It's the funniest story I've heard for a long while；〃 said the
landlord。
〃Glad it amuses somebody；〃 said the man。
We left him helping the landlord to pick up the broken things； and
went our way。 A dozen yards outside the door the faithful animal
was waiting for his friend。 He looked tired； but contented。 He
was evidently a dog of strange and sudden fancies； and we feared
for the moment lest he might take a liking to us。 But he let us
pass with indifference。 His loyalty to this unresponsive man was
touching； and we made no attempt to undermine it。
Having completed to our satisfaction the Black Forest； we journeyed
on our wheels through Alt Breisach and Colmar to Munster； whence we
started a short exploration of the Vosges range； where； according
to the present German Emperor； humanity stops。 Of old； Alt
Breisach； a rocky fortress with the river now on one side of it and
now on the otherfor in its inexperienced youth the Rhine never
seems to have been quite sure of its way；must； as a place of
residence； have appealed exclusively to the lover of change and
excitement。 Whoever the war was between； and whatever it was
about； Alt Breisach was bound to be in it。 Everybody besieged it；
most people captured it； the majority of them lost it again； nobody
seemed able to keep it。 Whom he belonged to； and what he was； the
dweller in Alt Breisach could never have been quite sure。 One day
he would be a Frenchman； and then before he could learn enough
French to pay his taxes he would be an Austrian。 While trying to
discover what you did in order to be a good Austrian； he would find
he was no longer an Austrian； but a German； though what particular
German out of the dozen must always have been doubtful to him。 One
day he would discover that he was a Catholic； the next an ardent
Protestant。 The only thing that could have given any stability to
his existence must have been the monotonous necessity of paying
heavily for the privilege of being whatever for the moment he was。
But when one begins to think of these things one finds oneself
wondering why anybody in the Middle Ages； except kings and tax
collectors； ever took the trouble to live at all。
For variety and beauty； the Vosges will not compare with the hills
of the Schwarzwald。 The advantage about them from the tourist's
point of view is their superior poverty。 The Vosges peasant has
not the unromantic air of contented prosperity that spoils his vis…
a…vis across the Rhine。 The villages and farms possess more the
charm of decay。 Another point wherein the Vosges district excels
is its ruins。 Many of its numerous castles are perched where you
might think only eagles would care to build。 In others； commenced
by the Romans and finished by the Troubadours； covering acres with
the maze of their still standing walls； one may wander for hours。
The fruiterer and greengrocer is a person unknown in the Vosges。
Most things of that kind grow wild； and are to be had for the
picking。 It is difficult to keep to any programme when walking
through the Vosges； the temptation on a hot day to stop and eat
fruit generally being too strong for resistance。 Raspberries； the
most delicious I have ever tasted； wild strawberries； currants； and
gooseberries； grow upon the hill…sides as black…berries by English
lanes。 The Vosges small boy is not called upon to rob an orchard；
he can make himself ill without sin。 Orchards exist in the Vosges
mountains in plenty； but to trespass into one for the purpose of
stealing fruit would be as foolish as for a fish to try and get
into a swimming bath without paying。 Still； of course； mistakes do
occur。
One afternoon in the course of a climb we emerged upon a plateau；
where we lingered perhaps too long； eating more fruit than may have
been good for us； it was so plentiful around us； so varied。 We
commenced with a few late strawberries； and from those we passed to
raspberries。 Then Harris found a greengage…tree with some early
fruit upon it； just perfect。
〃This is about the best thing we have struck；〃 said George； 〃we had
better make the most of this。〃 Which was good advice； on the face
of it。
〃It is a pity；〃 said Harris； 〃that the pears are still so hard。〃
He grieved about this for a while； but later on came across some
remarkably fine yellow plums and these consoled him somewhat。
〃I suppose we are still a bit too far north for pineapples；〃 said
George。 〃I feel I could just enjoy a fresh pineapple。 This
commonplace fruit palls upon one after a while。〃
〃Too much bush fruit and not enough tree； is the fault I find；〃
said Harris。 〃Myself； I should have liked a few more greengages。〃
〃Here is a man coming up the hill；〃 I observed； 〃who looks like a
native。 Maybe； he will know where we can find some more
greengages。〃
〃He walks well for an old chap；〃 remarked Harris。
He certainly was climbing the hill at a remarkable pace。 Also； so
far as we were able to judge at that distance； he appeared to be in
a remarkably cheerful mood； singing and shouting at the top of his
voice； gesticulating； and waving his arms。
〃What a merry old soul it is；〃 said Harris； 〃it does one good to
watch him。 But why does he carry his stick over his shoulder？ Why
doesn't he use it to help him up the hill？〃
〃Do you know； I don't think it is a stick；〃 said George。
〃What can it be； then？〃 asked Harris。
〃Well； it looks to me；〃 said George； 〃more like a gun。〃
〃You don't think we can have made a mistake？〃 suggested Harris。
〃You don't think this can be anything in the nature of a private
orchard？〃
I said： 〃Do you remember the sad thing that happened in the South
of France some two years ago？ A soldier picked some cherries as he
passed a house； and the French peasant to whom the cherries
belonged came out； and without a word of warning shot him dead。〃
〃But surely you are not allowed to shoot a man dead for picking
fruit； even in France？〃 said George。
〃Of course not；〃 I answered。 〃It was quite illegal。 The only
excuse offered by his counsel was that he was of a highly excitable
disposition； and especially keen about these particular cherries。〃
〃I recollect something about the case；〃 said Harris； 〃now you
mention it。 I believe the district in which it happenedthe
'Commune；' as I think it is calledhad to pay heavy compensation
to the relatives of the deceased soldier； which was only fair。〃
George said： 〃I am tired of this place。 Besides； it's getting
late。〃
Harris said： 〃If he goes at that rate he will fall and hurt
himself。 Besides； I don't believe he knows the way。〃
I felt lonesome up th