"Don't know whether you'll get Gipsy to agree with you; she ought to be a dab critic of scenery by now," grunted Donald.
"Oh, it's lovely!" said Gipsy, who was enjoying herself immensely. "Of course it's quite, quite different from America, or Australia, or South Africa. It's smaller, but it's prettier in its own way. It looks much more cultivated."
"Ah! wait till you get right out on the moor at the top. You won't insult that by calling it cultivated."
The woods were soon left behind, and the pathway led ever upwards, first through a tangle of heather and bilberry and gorse; then, higher still, over short, fine, slippery tracts of grass. They were reaching the upper region of the fell, where the hard rock cropped out into great splintered crags, weathered by countless winter storms, and where no bushes or softer herbage could face the struggle for existence. So far the walk had been comparatively easy, but now the footpath had disappeared, and they were obliged to trust to their knowledge of mountaineering. The top still towered above them a very long way off, and they calculated it would need a two hours' climb before they could reach the particular crag that marked the extreme summit.
Donald assumed the leadership of the party, and, scanning the mountainside with what he called an Alpine eye, decided which would be their best course to pursue. There were several steep precipices and awkward places that must be avoided, for though they were all quite ready to try their skill at scaling rocks, it seemed no use to waste unnecessary time over performing difficult feats.
"I expect that last crag will give us enough practice in that," remarked Donald. "I've brought a rope with me in case we want it—got it wound round and round my waist under my coat."
"Oh, that explains why you look so stout to-day!" laughed Meg. "I should think it's pretty uncomfortable."
"Not a bit of it! It keeps me warm. I call it jolly cold up here."
"I believe we've reached the Arctic zone!" agreed Gipsy.
The air had undoubtedly grown colder with every hundred feet of their ascent. The sunshine had disappeared, grey clouds had gathered, and feathery flakes of snow began to fall lightly. The grass was soon covered with a thin white coating which gave a delightfully Alpine aspect to the scene. The prospect was glorious—the sharp, splintered, snow-crested crags stood out in bold relief against the neutral-tinted sky, and the long stretches of moor below them looked soft and blurred masses of whiteness.