He was followed by Colson and Rattleton. Then came Bart Hodge and Jack Diamond.
The climb was not so difficult as it looked. Some of the smaller vines broke under the weight of Browning, and of Ephraim Gallup, but in a comparatively short time all were at the top of the bluff.
The girl swung herself up after them, and pointed to a dim path leading through a thicket of laurel straight toward the frowning cap of the mountain.
“Thar’s yer way!” she whispered. “I see ye’ve got a rope fer ther bad places. Two or three uv ’em’ll maybe hump ye, but I’m sure you uns, by holpin’ each other, kin make it. An’ it’ll save ye nigh about half the distance.”
“Thank you,” said Frank, as she turned away. “You have placed us under great obligations.”
This time Merriwell took the lead, plunging into the laurel, for the route was an unknown one to all. He hurried forward as rapidly as the ground would admit.
A number of hogs of the razorback variety leaped up in front of him and scurried out of sight.
“Look out that you don’t get bitten,” shouted Rattleton, with a laugh. “Those are wild hogs, you must understand, and you’d better not crowd them.”
The hogs looked fierce enough to justify Rattleton’s assertion.
“A boar hunt in these hills wouldn’t be bad,” said Hodge. “One of those fellows had tusks like razors.”