other onslaught. The spectator knew that now the force of the wild summer-tempest was broken. Minutes passed again. . . No longer were the flashes and crashes simultaneous. Sullenly the storms withdrew in a solid phalanx on their way to the Atlantic, but the clouds still hung heavily around the summit and stretched down the sides. A glimmery effect as of phosphorescence shone through the clinging mist and he knew that beyond to the west the sun was again shining in clean-washed blue, though he could see nothing but vague and towering shapes of cliffs close to him. A few last spattering drops of rain were now and then squeezed out of the thinning clouds—but the storm was over. And it was only twenty minutes since he had topped the crest. The speed of these mountain storms is incredible!
The Mountain-Lover, in breathless and very wet delight stepped down into the pool at the base of the rock. It was nearly up to his knees. He pulled off his hat and
