oils?"

"Yes, if you like."

"I do like. I know a place, and the way to get there. Are you good for a
climb?"

Brockway possessed himself of the basket, spread a newspaper on the
opposite seat, and began to make a very fair and equitable division of
the eatables.

"I'm good for anything," she said; then she pulled off her gloves and
helped him divide the luncheon.

When the train stopped at Graymont, Burton went forward to get the
luncheon. The coach was empty when he reached it, and the looted basket
bore witness to the designs of the two young people. The general agent
wagged his head dubiously, and when he had seen the last of the
Tadmorians securely wedged into his place at the crowded table in the
hotel dining-room, he failed not to lay the burden of gloomy prophecy
once more upon the shoulders of the small person who, as he more than
half suspected, was responsible for Brockway's presence.

By that time the subjects of the prophecy were well out of sight and
hearing in the narrow ravine in which the great canyon has its
beginnings. They walked the ties to the end of the track, and beyond
that point picked their way over the rough ground until they came to a
trail leading up the northern acclivity. Here Brockway took Gertrude's
arm and together they began the ascent.

"Don't forget what I told you", he cautioned; "you are not to look back
until I give the word."

"Should I turn into a pillar of salt if I did?" she asked.

"Possibly."

"Then I'll not do it; it would be rather awkward for both of us."

A hundred feet or more above the level of the railway track they came to
a small plateau, and in the midst of it, Brockway stopped suddenly and
spun her around with her face to the southward. No uninspired pen may
set down in unmalleable phrase a description of what she saw; nor can
any tide-gauge of language, spoken or written, measure the great wave of
emotion which swept over her, choking the flood-gates of expression.
From the moment the ascending train enters the canyon at Golden until it
pauses opposite the hotel at Graymont, the scenery is rugged and
inspiring, but it belittles itself by its very nearness. But from the
plateau where they were standing, the vista expands as if by magic. The
mighty mountain at whose foot the train pauses becomes but a foothill,
and just beyond it, in indescribable grandeur and majesty, rises the
huge, snow-clad bulk of Gray's Peak, stupendous, awe-inspiring, dazzling