In the cool shadows of twilight they rolled along the famous turnpike, with Battie behind them and the frowning heights of Megunticook rising directly over their heads. On Maiden Cliff, standing out against the sky, they saw the white cross that marks the spot where a beautiful girl fell to her death on the cruel rocks below. At times the winding road seemed to lead directly into the lake that they could see shimmering through the trees. It was one of the most beautiful drives Merriwell had ever taken.
They turned about finally and came back by the way of Lake City, a charming collection of cottages assembled at one of the most picturesque spots to be found around the island-dotted lake. The driver pointed out the spot where the famous Lake City Inn had stood before the fire that wiped out the beautiful summer hotel.
By this time night had fallen, but the full moon was high in the heavens, shedding a pure white light over all and giving the scene a glamour that it could not have by day. Indeed, it was so light that the cross on Maiden Cliff could be seen even better than they had seen it in the twilight.
"Now, fellows," said Moslof, "there is another place we had better visit to-night."
"Where is that?" asked several.
"The Summit House, on Mount Battie."
"Hurrah for the Summit House!" shouted the boys.
"We'll have to do some walking."
"We can walk up all right."
"I don't know about that," grunted Bruce Browning. "I came out to ride."