guide and then at his own Tremont Street array, that he could plainly see there would be somewhat greater interest in the climb, for him, if he could plump his feet down like that on the rocks. For himself, he wasn't walking; he was stepping.
"But it's some view," he suddenly concluded.
Then he scanned with interest the immediate spot on which they stood and compared the directions which the guide indicated, with his map. Oh, yes, he had seen those little stones up there, but he didn't think there was sense in them. It looked as if he couldn't get around up there, and so he didn't try them. Seemed to him that the way he had taken was more sense. No, he hadn't exactly lost his way here, so much as taken the wrong one. Down there in the Dinky Dell trail he had lost his way if you like, for he had turned around just a few times and suddenly the path had walked off.
The Mountain-Lover smiled. Then something in the confiding aspect of his new
