Floretta had wished to remain at the hut, but as she could not do that, she proceeded to make herself as unpleasant as possible, by complaining every step of the way, until one young man voiced the feeling of the entire party.
"This is a horrid, rough old path, and I'm tired. I wish I'd stayed at home!" said Floretta.
"I wish so, too!" said the young man, and several of the party, too polite to say it, at heart, agreed with him.
Floretta's was the only gloomy face, however. The others tramped gaily onward, singing snatches of song, and laughing as they stepped upon rolling stones, or tripped over long, gnarled roots that rose above the surface, as if especially designed to catch lagging feet.
"All day upon the hills
We've chased the chamois far,
But deeper joy now thrills
Beneath the evening star."
The youth sang gaily, and several of his friends joined him in singing the old song.
Arrived at the summit they rested, enjoyed the view, laughed and joked about their weariness, and made many wild guesses as to how long it would take them to make the descent and drive back to the hotel.
"It will be three o'clock before we reach the Cleverton," said one.
"Nonsense!" cried another, "this is really called a mountain by courtesy. It's only a big hill. I say we shall be on the piazza, and wondering what we can do next, as early as half-past two."
"It's more likely to be half-past three!" declared another, and when all felt sufficiently rested, they commenced the descent.