“All the same, señor,” 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.
CHAPTER XXVII
ELSIE’S DREAM.
The others came in due time. They had enjoyed a short drive on the turnpike, which explained their delay in reaching the top of the mountain.
Crossgrove was in high spirits. He had sent word in advance that his party would arrive at the hotel and wished supper there. Everything had been made ready for them, and they proceeded to enjoy themselves on the broad veranda, from which they could look ’way over the island-besprinkled bay. With the aid of a field glass they could see the outer islands, beyond which lay the open ocean. They could also see the mountains, at the foot of which nestled Bar Harbor.
Del Norte seemed to take delight in pointing out the particularly striking or attractive features of the view. He descanted upon each feature. His language was indeed poetical in many instances. From one group to another he passed, apparently in highest spirits and the most genial humor. Always he was the soul of courtesy and politeness.