Part 12 (2/2)
”I suppose one must get hurt now and then,” she responded. ”After all, a bruise that's only skin-deep doesn't trouble one long, and no doubt some scars are honorable. It's slow corrosion that's the deadliest.”
She broke off with a laugh.
”Moralizing's out of place on a day like this,” she added; ”and such days are not frequent in the North. That's their greatest charm.”
Vane nodded. He knew the sad gray skies of his native land, when its lonely heights are blurred by driving snow-cloud or scourged by bitter rain for weeks together, though now and then they tower serenely into the blue heavens, steeped in ethereal splendor. Once more it struck him that in their latter aspect his companion resembled them. Made finely, of warm flesh and blood, she was yet ethereal too. There was something aloof and intangible about her that seemed in harmony with the hills among which she was born.
”Yes,” he agreed. ”On the face of it, the North is fickle; though to those who know it that's a misleading term. To some of us it's always the same, and its dark grimness makes one feel the radiance of its smile. For all that, I think we're going to see a sudden change in the weather.”
Long wisps of leaden cloud began to stream across the crags above, intensifying, until it seemed unnatural, the glow of light and color on the rest.
”I wonder if Mopsy is leading Mr. Carroll into any mischief? They have been gone some time,” said Evelyn. ”She has a trick of getting herself and other people into difficulties. I suppose he is an old friend of yours, as you brought him over; unless, perhaps, he's acting as your secretary.”
Vane's eyes twinkled.
”If he came in any particular capacity, it's as bear-leader. You see, there are a good many things I've forgotten in the bush, and, as I left this country young, there are no doubt some that I never learned.”
”And so you make Mr. Carroll your confidential adviser. How did he gain the necessary experience?”
”That is more than I can tell you; but I'm inclined to believe he has been at one of the universities--Toronto, most likely. Anyhow, on the whole he acts as a judicious restraint.”
”But don't you really know anything about him?”
”Only what some years of close companions.h.i.+p have taught me, though I think that's enough. For the rest, I took him on trust.”
Evelyn looked surprised, and he spread out his hands in a humorous manner.
”A good many people have had to take me in that way, and they seemed willing to do so--the thing's not uncommon in the West. Why should I be more particular than they were?”
Just then Mabel and Carroll appeared. The latter's garments were stained in places, as if he had been scrambling over mossy rocks, and his pockets bulged. Mabel's skirt was torn, while a patch of white skin showed through her stocking.
”We've found some sun-dew and two ferns I don't know, as well as all sorts of other things,” she announced.
”That's correct,” vouched Carroll dryly; ”I've got them. I guess they're going to fill up most of the creel.”
Mabel superintended their transfer, and then addressed the others generally.
”I think we ought to go up the Pike now, when we have the chance. It isn't much of a climb from here: and we'll have rain before to-morrow.
Besides, the quickest way back to the road is across the top and down the other side.”
Evelyn agreed, and they set out, following a sheep path which skirted the screes, until they left the bank of sharp stones behind and faced a steep ascent. Parts of it necessitated a breathless scramble, and the sunlight faded from the hills as they climbed, while thicker wisps of cloud drove across the ragged summit. They reached the top at length and stopped, bracing themselves against a rush of chilly breeze, while they looked down upon a wilderness of leaden-colored rock. Long trails of mist were creeping in and out among the crags, and here and there ma.s.ses of it gathered round the higher slopes.
”I think the Pike's grandest in this weather,” Mabel declared. ”Look below, Mr. Carroll, and you'll see the mountain's like a starfish. It has p.r.o.ngs running out from it.”
Carroll did as she directed him, and noticed three diverging ridges springing off from the shoulders of the peak. Their crests, which were narrow, led down toward the valley, but their sides fell in rent and fissured crags to great black hollows.
”You can get down two of them,” Mabel went on. ”The first is the nearest to the road, but the third's the easiest. It takes you to the Hause--that's the gap between it and the next big hill. You must be a climber to try the middle one.”
<script>