“Oh, about one thousand feet, more or less.” “More or less!” roared the exasperated giant. “That was just the way you said it, doggone you! You said one thousand feet, more or less. It’s more, all right! It’s five thousand more! If I haven’t climbed five thousand feet already, I haven’t climbed an inch!” After a time they succeeded in getting him started again, but when they came to a turn of the path that ran over some smooth and slippery ledges the big fellow lost his footing, fell sprawling, and lay grasping a cleft in the rock, while he grunted out his declaration that he was on the verge of dropping the full distance to the foot of the mountain and ending his earthly career in that manner. “Come on, Bruce,” said Frank. “You can’t fall very far if you try. You might roll down a rod or so and bruise yourself, but there’s no great peril here.” “How can I believe a liar like him?” muttered Browning, still clinging to the cleft and declining to budge. “One thousand feet, more or less! Just wait until I get on level ground again! I’ll give him something he’ll enjoy—more or less!” “Oh, Bruce,” laughed Inza; “if I had a camera now! You would make such a beautiful picture! Your pose is so graceful!” “I sup-pose so,” punned the big fellow. “Here! here!” cried Frank. “Punning is a worse crime than lying, and you’re lying and punning both.” “You’re another!” said Bruce, as he slowly pulled himself up to his hands and knees and began crawling cautiously along the ridge in the ledge. This was not the only spot over which it was difficult to urge Browning, but finally the dangerous ledges were left behind, and they passed over the shoulder of the mountain. By that time Browning had forgotten his threats or was too exhausted to attempt to carry them out. Those who had reached the top in advance were found waiting, and soon the entire party was collected. They then made their way through the cedars and low bushes toward the hotel. To the surprise of all, they failed to find at the hotel their friends who had chosen to go up by team. On the veranda, however, a man sat smoking a cigarette and enjoying the beautiful sea view. It was Porfias del Norte. As he saw them, Del Norte rose and waved his hand, bowing with the grace of a dancing master and smiling with the sweetness of a beautiful woman. “Hail to the mighty mountain climbers!” he cried, in a musical voice. “I welcome you as kindred spirits. I, too, climbed the mountain by that path. I found it toil, yet it was toil well rewarded.” “You climbed by that path?” said Bart Hodge, regarding Del Norte in surprise. “Why, I didn’t suppose you ever exerted yourself to such an extent, señor. It seems utterly improbable that you should do so. What could have been your object?” “Yes, what could have been your object?” muttered Browning. “I was fooled into it. You must have had an object.”