“Holy Moses! Do we have to climb those crags before we start?” “To go to Black Mountain?” “Yes. That's where the lawyer said they lived, under Cat-tail Peak in the Black Mountain Range--wherever t'ell that is.” “No, no! You don't climb the Great Craggy; you go around this end of it and follow the Swannanoa River right up to the foot of Mount Mitchell, the highest peak this side of the Rockies. The Cat-tail is just beyond Mount Mitchell.” “You've been there?” he asked in surprise. “Once, with a party from Asheville. We spent three days and slept in caves.” “Suppose you'd know the way now?” “We couldn't miss it. We follow the bed of the Swannanoa to its source-----” “Then that settles it. We'll go by ourselves. I don't want any mutt along to show us the way. We couldn't get lost nohow, could we?” “Of course not--all the roads lead to Asheville. We can ask the way to the house you want, when we reach the little stopping place at the foot of Mount Mitchell.” “Gee, Kid, you're a wonder!” he exclaimed admiringly. “Couldn't get along without you, now could I?” “I hope not, sir!” “You bet I couldn't! We'll start right away. The roads will give us a jolt----” He turned suddenly to go. “Wait--wait a minute, dear,” she pleaded. “You haven't seen this gorgeous view to the southwest, with Mount Pisgah looming in the center like some vast cathedral spire--look, isn't it glorious?” “Fine! Fine!” he responded in quick, businesslike tones. “You can look for days and weeks and not begin to realize the changing beauty of these mountains, clothed in eternal green! Just think, dear, Mount Pisgah, there, is forty miles away, and it looks as if you could stroll over to it in an hour's walk. And there are twenty-three magnificent peaks like that, all of them more than six thousand feet high----” She paused with a frown. He was neither looking nor listening. He had fallen into a brown study; his mind was miles away. “You're not listening, Jim--nor seeing anything,” she said reproachfully. “No--Kiddo, we must get ready for that trip. I've got a letter for a lawyer downtown. I'll find him and hire a car. I'll be back here for you in an hour. You'll be ready?” “Right away, in half an hour----” “Just pack a suit-case for us both. We'll stay one night. I'll take a bag, too, that I have in my trunk.” It was noon before he returned with a staunch touring car ready for the trip. He opened the little steamer trunk which he had always kept locked and took from it a small leather bag. He placed it on the floor, and, in spite of careful handling, the ring of metal inside could be distinctly heard. “What on earth have you got in that queer black bag?” she asked in surprise. “Oh, just a lot o' junk from the shop. I thought I might tinker with it at odd times. I don't want to leave it here. It's got one of my new models in it.” He carried the bag in his hand, refusing to allow the porter who came for the suit-case to touch it.