"

"Where's the Black Mountains, I wonder?" he asked suddenly.

"Over there!" She pointed to the giant peaks projecting here and there
in dim, blue waves beyond the Great Craggy Range in the foreground.

"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----"