ere the details of real everyday life, and worthy to be dwelt on by the
hour. The boy was never tired of pursuing them. And Big Tom was just a
big boy, also, in his delight in it all.

Perhaps it was the fascination of Big Tom, perhaps the representation
that we were already way off the Big Ivy route, and that it would, in
fact, save time to go over the mountain and we could ride all the way,
that made the Professor acquiesce, with no protest worth noticing, in
the preparations that went on, as by a natural assumption, for going
over Mitchell. At any rate, there was an early breakfast, luncheon
was put up, and by half-past seven we were riding up the Caney,--a
half-cloudy day,--Big Tom swinging along on foot ahead, talking nineteen
to the dozen. There was a delightful freshness in the air, the dew-laden
bushes, and the smell of the forest. In half an hour we called at the
hunting shanty of Mr. Murchison, wrote our names on the wall, according
to custom, and regretted that we could not stay for a day in that
retreat and try the speckled trout. Making our way through the low
growth and bushes of the valley, we came into a fine open forest,
watered by a noisy brook, and after an hour's easy going reached the
serious ascent.

From Wilson's to the peak of Mitchell it is seven and a half miles; we
made it in five and a half hours. A bridle path was cut years ago, but
it has been entirely neglected. It is badly washed, it is stony, muddy,
and great trees have fallen across it which wholly block the way for
horses. At these places long detours were necessary, on steep hillsides
and through gullies, over treacherous sink-holes in the rocks, through
quaggy places, heaps of brush, and rotten logs. Those who have ever
attempted to get horses over such ground will not wonder at the slow
progress we made. Before we were halfway up the ascent, we realized the
folly of attempting it on horseback; but then to go on seemed as easy as
to go back. The way was also exceedingly steep in places, and what with
roots, and logs, and slippery rocks and stones, it was a desperate climb
for the horses.

What a magnificent forest! Oaks, chestnuts, Poplars, hemlocks, the
cucumber (a species of magnolia, with a pinkish, cucumber-like cone),
and all sorts of northern and southern growths meeting here in splendid
array. And this gigantic forest, with little diminution in size of
trees, continued two thirds of the way up. We marked, as we went on, the