But the way to the turn is not long; and once round that corner, and racing along the river side, there is enough to see, well worth the seeing. And it was all new to Magnus. The wonderful rush of the mighty river, rolling its blue waves in endless curls and undulations; the stately Palisades, with their drapings of June green; the white-winged craft on the water, and the white-winged gulls in the air; all made the boy's heart leap. Here went a steamer, ploughing her crested furrows; now and then the train stopped for breath at some station with a strange name. It was all a wonderful new world. With his face close to the window Magnus looked eagerly out; sending his gaze as far up the river as the headlands and bends would let him; and at last in the distance beyond the narrowing waters of Haverstraw Bay, and above the nearer hillsides, rose lovely mountain-heads. Not towering and stupendous, such as he might have seen many a time in the Western States, but soft, rounded, exquisite; just high enough, in fact, to claim the dignified name of mountains, as distinguished from mere hills. What they were, and where they belonged, Magnus could not tell. They rose up, and stretched out, and locked in, in an impassable sort of way; as if they might be miles off from the river. He did not know whether West Point was near them. And yet, by his time-table, there was but one station more before he must leave the train. Now the engine rushed inland for a bit, losing sight of the river, and Magnus studied the time-table again, assuring himself for the twentieth time of the precise hour and minute when he was expected to reach Garrisons. Then as the train drew up at Peekskill, he gazed out at that dingy combination which gathers round a railway station. The engine got its quantum of water, darted on, and then--ah, what could be fairer! Magnus almost shouted with delight as they swept around the curve, with the full south view for a moment, past Anthony's Nose, and with the Dunderberg across the stream. "What are these mountains called?" he asked of a Peekskill passenger who had taken the seat beside him. "Highlands--Hudson Highlands," said the man. "You don't belong round here, likely?" "I never was here before." "You've come to the right place, then. Aint purtier mountings nowhere. Such a lot o' happenings, too. Now, right _here_,"--as the train rushed through a deep rock cut,--"just about here, was where Benedict Arnold sneaked off to find the _Vulture_. And earth nor water didn't nary one on 'em open and swaller him up." "Then this is Teller's Point!" cried Magnus.