They turned about finally and came back by the way of Lake City, a charming collection of cottages assembled at one of the most picturesque spots to be found around the island-dotted lake. The driver pointed out the spot where the famous Lake City Inn had stood before the fire that wiped out the beautiful summer hotel. By this time night had fallen, but the full moon was high in the heavens, shedding a pure white light over all and giving the scene a glamour that it could not have by day. Indeed, it was so light that the cross on Maiden Cliff could be seen even better than they had seen it in the twilight. "Now, fellows," said Moslof, "there is another place we had better visit to-night." "Where is that?" asked several. "The Summit House, on Mount Battie." "Hurrah for the Summit House!" shouted the boys. "We'll have to do some walking." "We can walk up all right." "I don't know about that," grunted Bruce Browning. "I came out to ride." "It will do you good to walk." But Bruce could not agree with Merriwell, and Moslof, laughing, said that Browning should not leave the buckboard till he was safely on the top of Battie. This relieved the big fellow's mind, and he grunted: "All right. Go ahead." Before they reached the foot of the mountain after leaving Lake City they turned off into a road that led back into the woods. Soon they came to the new road that had been constructed by the energy and determination of the shrewd owner of the hotel on the heights. This road proved to be even better than the boys had anticipated, but it was very steep in places, so that every man except Browning walked. As for Bruce, no amount of guying could induce him to get off and climb. The moonlight sifted down through the trees, making white patches amid the black shadows. There was not much air, and the walking lads were perspiring freely before they were far from the foot of the ascent; but they stuck to it, and, at last, they were relieved to come out of the winding way and see the lights of the hotel before them. With a cheer, they rushed forward toward the building. Moslof led the way round the end, and then all stopped, uttering exclamations of admiration. Below them in the white moonlight lay the village, the harbor, the bay, the great stretch of beautiful country. Hundreds of lights twinkled in the town, the electric street lamps showing white and clear and marking the limits of the village. Away to the south was Rockport, her electric lamps paled by the clear moonlight. Miles beyond Rockport was Rockland, her location also plainly marked by lights. Between Rockport and Camden a lighted trolley car was flying along. Jack Diamond drew a deep breath, and his hand fell on Frank's arm. "Merriwell," he said, "I want to thank you for bringing me down into this country. It surely is a wonderful land at this season of the year, no matter what it may be in winter. This is the most beautiful view my eyes ever rested upon."