Gincy stood for a moment enraptured. Below for miles was a fair, level country dotted with towns—another world of which she knew nothing. The sun was dipping westward toward a bluish-purple horizon. By five o’clock everything was in order. “Not a lazy bone among you,” Miss Howard assured them. “Now scatter and have a good time.” They needed no second bidding. Lalla led off at a break-neck speed. “We’ll start in at the cave and come back by Fat Man’s Misery; it’ll land us right in front of the bungalow.” Urilla groaned. “Sh-h-h,” warned Kizzie, “we’re going to initiate Gincy; none of us are fat enough to get stuck, so you needn’t worry.” “I’m not worrying,” answered Urilla reproachfully. “I’m tired after all my work this morning, but I’m not going to back out.” The path to the cave led through a grove of young oaks. There were tall ferns and rhododendrons, and mountain laurel. Lalla paused at an immense fallen tree which seemed to block the way; its great roots hung over the yawning space below. Nimbly she sprang upon the giant trunk and disappeared on the other side, calling for the rest to follow. When the three had done so, they caught a vanishing glimpse of Lalla descending hand over hand on the strong branch of a mammoth grapevine. Thirty feet below she landed upon the level surface of a mossy boulder. Gincy followed Kizzie, and Urilla came last. Before them was the large opening of the cave—a favourite haunt of the students, who from time to time occupied the college bungalow. At its rear, a long, wide crack in the solid rock led in a zigzag direction for twenty rods or more. The path was extremely narrow, and sloping at a sharp incline. Kizzie dodged ahead and Gincy was close behind. Each moment the former grew more reckless; she gathered her skirts around her and slid down a swift descent, the others following. “Whew! but it’s dampish!” said Gincy. “Hear that water?” A steady drip, drip, drip came from the walls. In the cracks were long fronded ferns, moss, and here and there wild geraniums. A cool draught struck them. At the farther end the rocks seemed almost to touch, and only a tiny thread of light showed from above. Gincy was close to Kizzie when they reached the narrowest part and began the long, tortuous climb. “We’ll be ready for hot coffee by the time we get to the top,” called Urilla from the rear. “I hope Miss Howard won’t fuss; I kin eat anythin’ I’m so hungry,” said Gincy. “Of course she won’t fuss,” panted Kizzie. “She’s a born manager; she’ll have everything on the table in great shape and a picture painted to boot.” Up, up, with a scanty, stony foothold, Gincy followed close behind Kizzie, her face growing redder, her breath shorter. The crack of blue was broadening, roots and stocky ferns afforded a surer grasp. “We’re almost there!” Kizzie exulted. “What on earth are you doing with that stick, Gincy?”