“They told me how beautiful the scenes were my eyes could behold while climbing the mountain that way. I am a lover of beauty. I adore nature. A hundred times I paused while making the ascent and turned to look back. Down almost directly beneath me lay the beautiful village of Camden, with its snug little harbor, with the blue bay and the purple islands beyond, and then with such a grand stretch of country and the village of Rockport yonder, smoke rising from its limekilns. The winding, brown roads, the fields, the grass, and away down there another place, which they call Rockland, also with its smoking kilns. And toward the west were other mountains, rugged, and wooded, and broken. Then over all was this deep blue sky—this sweet blue sky! And the sunshine warmed me, and the sweet airs thrilled me. Oh, yes, I was well repaid—well repaid for my climb.” “Señor del Norte,” said Inza, “you seem to have the soul of a poet.” “I have,” he answered, bowing again to her. “It’s the poet’s heart that beats in my bosom.” “All the same, señor,” said Bart Hodge, “I decline to believe you climbed the path solely for the love of the beauty your eyes can behold from it. You had another object.” The Mexican lifted his delicate dark eyebrows with an expression of surprise. “If that is true,” he said, “I myself do not know what the object was. There is a wagon road on the western side of the mountain, and I could have ridden from the foot to this hotel. I didn’t do so.” “Which makes me believe all the more,” said Hodge, “that you had some powerful incitant to climb that path.” “Either that or you’re the blamedest fool I ever met!” said Browning, as he collapsed on a chair and began weakly fanning himself. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXVII ELSIE’S DREAM. The others came in due time. They had enjoyed a short drive on the turnpike, which explained their delay in reaching the top of the mountain. Crossgrove was in high spirits. He had sent word in advance that his party would arrive at the hotel and wished supper there. Everything had been made ready for them, and they proceeded to enjoy themselves on the broad veranda, from which they could look ’way over the island-besprinkled bay. With the aid of a field glass they could see the outer islands, beyond which lay the open ocean. They could also see the mountains, at the foot of which nestled Bar Harbor. Del Norte seemed to take delight in pointing out the particularly striking or attractive features of the view. He descanted upon each feature. His language was indeed poetical in many instances. From one group to another he passed, apparently in highest spirits and the most genial humor. Always he was the soul of courtesy and politeness. But a score of times Inza Burrage detected him watching her or flashing her a strange, quick glance.