early that afternoon two parties from the sachem started for the top of mount battie. one party, including mrs. crossgrove and the captain’s daughter, decided to make the ascent by teams.
it was inza who proposed to frank and frank’s friends that they should take the footpath up the southern side of the mountain.
near two o’clock they started, having induced browning to accompany them, much to merry’s secret satisfaction.
“if i find any one is lying to me about this old trail up the mountain,” said the big fellow, as with his coat on his arm he came puffing after the others, “i will certainly deal out retribution in large quantities. inza says the path is perfectly delightful. frank says it’s a simple climb. hodge says it’s almost too easy. while others have told me it’s a simpler matter climbing up the footpath than riding up the road. in fact, i have received the impression that it’s just about as easy to climb the mountain by this footpath as it is to slide down hill on a toboggan.”
a little later, when they had struck the first steep ascent and were climbing a path where loose stones abounded and frequently rolled beneath their feet, bruce began to growl, and gurgle, and make strange sounds in his throat. looking back, they could see him with his face flushed and perspiring, and his eyes glaring ominously.
“what’s the matter, bruce?” cried inza laughingly.
“no matter! no matter!” he declared, with a touch of savageness in his voice.
“but i fancied there must be from the strange sounds coming up to my ears. i fancied a whole pack of wild animals were at our heels.”
again browning made one of those singular growling gurglings, and then, as a rock rolled beneath his feet and he nearly fell down, he paused and cried:
“where’s frank merriwell? let him come back here just a minute. i want to show him something.”
“can’t stop, bruce,” laughingly called merry. “it’s altogether too much trouble.”
“hang you!” panted browning. “i always regarded you as a man of veracity. i took you to be a second george washington. but let me tell you now, sir, that my opinion has changed. you have cap’n wiley, baron munchausen, and old ananias whipped to a finish. easy climbing up this path! simple thing sauntering up this path! delightful promenade up this path! can almost go to sleep walking up this path! yah-h-h-h!”
the shouts of laughter these words invoked did not seem to soothe browning’s feelings or cool him down in the slightest degree.
“laugh, confound you—laugh!” he shouted. “there will be a settlement with somebody! say, we’re pretty near the top, aren’t we?”
“yes, pretty near the top,” said frank. “we’ll be there in a short time. come ahead, bruce.”
“you wait till we do get to the top,” growled bruce threateningly as he resumed the climb after his amused companions.
in a short time browning found most of the party assembled on a flat ledge where there was an open view of the village below, the country beyond it, and the bay and islands.
“ah!” exclaimed bruce, in great relief. “reached the top at last! by george, that was a climb!”
“the top?” said elsie bellwood. “why, this isn’t the top of the mountain!”
“w-h-a-t?” roared the big fellow in astonishment.
then he glanced upward and saw the precipitous slopes above him, with the path winding in and out amid the rocks and bushes and showing itself only at intervals. for some moments he stood with his mouth open, seemingly thunderstruck.
“well, i’m a liar if i ever saw a mountain grow before!” he muttered. “this one has grown about three thousand feet taller than it was when we started to climb it. jumping jingoes! you don’t mean to tell me we’ve got to scratch gravel all the way up that declivity, do you? why, look at those cliffs! look at those smooth rocks! we’ll never get up there in a thousand years.”
dick merriwell and brad buckhart had been admiring the view. the texan nudged his friend with his elbow, chuckling in a low tone:
“i sure opined bob singleton was some lazy, but this gent certainly has him beaten to a custard.”
“it’s not half as lad as it books—i mean it’s not half as bad as it looks,” said harry rattleton.
“that’s right,” agreed frank. “you know at a distance a thing looks small and insignificant many times, but in this case, being close under the mountain makes it look more precipitous and difficult than it really is.”
“oh, yes! oh, yes!” grated browning, glaring at merry. “you’re a fine talker, you are! i have heard you talk before. you told me it was such a delightful thing to jog up the side of this mountain by this old footpath. it was such a simple matter that one might fall asleep while walking up the path! if there’s anything that exasperates me, it’s a liar! if there’s anything i have no use for, it’s a liar! fabricators are dangerous. they should be abolished, and here’s where i think i will abolish one.”
as he said this he clinched his fist, turned it over and over, and examined it as if making a critical inspection; and then, with it shaking ominously, he advanced toward frank, who was standing close to the edge of the rock.
“what are you going to do?” asked inza.
“i am going to kill him,” said bruce, in a deliberate manner. “i am going to throw him clean over the village and into the harbor out yonder. i will throw him out so far he’ll never be able to swim ashore.”
“oh, please—please don’t, for my sake!” entreated inza, with mock terror. “spare him and give him a chance to repent of his sins!”
“well, for your sake i will spare him,” said bruce. “you spoke just in time. he owes you his life. say, children, let’s not climb the mountain to-day. let’s rest here a while, call it a full day, and go back.”
they laughed at him mockingly, and finally he flung himself down with a hopeless groan.
“i think i will go back, anyhow,” he said. “i don’t think i’d ever survive the rest of this climb.”
“but you can’t go back, bruce,” said elsie. “we won’t let you go back. we want you with us. we want you to provide amusement for us.”
“oh, so that’s it?” he exclaimed, with another pretended burst of anger. “so you want me to come along and make a holy show of myself, do you? you think i am better than a three-ring circus, i suppose! you think i am better than a cage of monkeys, i suppose! i have heard you laughing and saying things to one another in low tones. i am onto the whole of you. you’re a heartless lot of heathens! you enjoy human suffering! you have no sympathy or tenderness in your marble hearts! pretty soon i will get mad and tell you just what i think of you.”
“don’t do it,” entreated henry rattleton. “you might knock our sherves—that is, shock our nerves.”
having admired the view spread beneath them and refreshed themselves by a rest on the ledge, they finally prepared to start again. it was then found that, with his arms curled beneath his head, browning was fast asleep. frank gave the big chap a nudge with the toe of his boot.
“come, come, browning,” he cried; “it’s your move.”
“gimme half the bed,” grunted browning, rolling over on his side and apparently preparing to continue his nap.
merry was compelled to shake him violently, and, protesting against such usage, the lazy chap finally sat up.
“why, it’s morning!” he said, in apparent surprise, as he rubbed his eyes. “hey? why, this is the funniest bedroom i ever slept in. what? that’s the biggest window on record. thunder! where am i, anyhow?”
at last he was wide-awake, and when frank told him where he was, and that some of the party had already resumed the ascent. bruce seemed on the verge of shedding tears.
“have i got to do it?” he asked. “why don’t they run a tramway up this old mountain? why don’t they have a car to take people up this blazing mountain? it’s an outrage to have a path up such a steep place! there ought to be a law against having such a path!”
“better stick by us, bruce,” said frank. “you remember how many loose stones there were in that path. if you attempt to go back by yourself those stones may give you a fall that will break your arms or legs or finish you completely. the rest of the way the path is comparatively solid.”
“oh, don’t talk to me! don’t you tell me anything! i wouldn’t believe you under oath!”
however, browning decided to follow them, and soon he was again panting, and puffing, and growling as he plodded up the path.
after leaving the ledge, this path wound in and out beyond some small trees and high bushes where there was considerable shade; but finally it came out upon the bare rocks, and the complaints of the lazy chap in the rear became more violent, although less frequent. once he sat down, and finally refused to move another foot. it was necessary that inza and frank should offer him further encouragement to urge him on.
“get ahead of us, bruce,” said merry. “the others are away up yonder. you can see that both dick and brad have passed out of sight over the shoulder of the mountain.”
“how high did you tell me this mountain was?” asked browning.
“oh, about one thousand feet, more or less.”
“more or less!” roared the exasperated giant. “that was just the way you said it, doggone you! you said one thousand feet, more or less. it’s more, all right! it’s five thousand more! if i haven’t climbed five thousand feet already, i haven’t climbed an inch!”
after a time they succeeded in getting him started again, but when they came to a turn of the path that ran over some smooth and slippery ledges the big fellow lost his footing, fell sprawling, and lay grasping a cleft in the rock, while he grunted out his declaration that he was on the verge of dropping the full distance to the foot of the mountain and ending his earthly career in that manner.
“come on, bruce,” said frank. “you can’t fall very far if you try. you might roll down a rod or so and bruise yourself, but there’s no great peril here.”
“how can i believe a liar like him?” muttered browning, still clinging to the cleft and declining to budge. “one thousand feet, more or less! just wait until i get on level ground again! i’ll give him something he’ll enjoy—more or less!”
“oh, bruce,” laughed inza; “if i had a camera now! you would make such a beautiful picture! your pose is so graceful!”
“i sup-pose so,” punned the big fellow.
“here! here!” cried frank. “punning is a worse crime than lying, and you’re lying and punning both.”
“you’re another!” said bruce, as he slowly pulled himself up to his hands and knees and began crawling cautiously along the ridge in the ledge.
this was not the only spot over which it was difficult to urge browning, but finally the dangerous ledges were left behind, and they passed over the shoulder of the mountain.
by that time browning had forgotten his threats or was too exhausted to attempt to carry them out.
those who had reached the top in advance were found waiting, and soon the entire party was collected. they then made their way through the cedars and low bushes toward the hotel.
to the surprise of all, they failed to find at the hotel their friends who had chosen to go up by team.
on the veranda, however, a man sat smoking a cigarette and enjoying the beautiful sea view. it was porfias del norte.
as he saw them, del norte rose and waved his hand, bowing with the grace of a dancing master and smiling with the sweetness of a beautiful woman.
“hail to the mighty mountain climbers!” he cried, in a musical voice. “i welcome you as kindred spirits. i, too, climbed the mountain by that path. i found it toil, yet it was toil well rewarded.”
“you climbed by that path?” said bart hodge, regarding del norte in surprise. “why, i didn’t suppose you ever exerted yourself to such an extent, se?or. it seems utterly improbable that you should do so. what could have been your object?”
“yes, what could have been your object?” muttered browning. “i was fooled into it. you must have had an object.”
“they told me how beautiful the scenes were my eyes could behold while climbing the mountain that way. i am a lover of beauty. i adore nature. a hundred times i paused while making the ascent and turned to look back. down almost directly beneath me lay the beautiful village of camden, with its snug little harbor, with the blue bay and the purple islands beyond, and then with such a grand stretch of country and the village of rockport yonder, smoke rising from its limekilns. the winding, brown roads, the fields, the grass, and away down there another place, which they call rockland, also with its smoking kilns. and toward the west were other mountains, rugged, and wooded, and broken. then over all was this deep blue sky—this sweet blue sky! and the sunshine warmed me, and the sweet airs thrilled me. oh, yes, i was well repaid—well repaid for my climb.”
“se?or del norte,” said inza, “you seem to have the soul of a poet.”
“i have,” he answered, bowing again to her. “it’s the poet’s heart that beats in my bosom.”
“all the same, se?or,” said bart hodge, “i decline to believe you climbed the path solely for the love of the beauty your eyes can behold from it. you had another object.”
the mexican lifted his delicate dark eyebrows with an expression of surprise.
“if that is true,” he said, “i myself do not know what the object was. there is a wagon road on the western side of the mountain, and i could have ridden from the foot to this hotel. i didn’t do so.”
“which makes me believe all the more,” said hodge, “that you had some powerful incitant to climb that path.”
“either that or you’re the blamedest fool i ever met!” said browning, as he collapsed on a chair and began weakly fanning himself.
