"It's a fine view from there, Roger. But the hill is pretty steep towards the end."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of it." The senator's son turned to the others. "What do you say?"
"I'll go anywhere," declared Phil.
"Same here," laughed Dave. "But don't be too long about it, Roger."
"Why?"
"I think that storm is working its way back again."
"Oh, nonsense, don't be a croaker, Dave! It won't rain in a year of Mondays!" cried the senator's son, and then he put on speed once more, and headed the touring-car for Sugar Hill.
The place mentioned was an elevation about a mile back from the lake. It was almost a mountain in size, and the road leading to the top was anything but a good one, being filled with ruts and loose stones. But the engine of the car was powerful, and it was not until they were almost to the top of the hill that Roger had to throw the gears into second speed.
"Some climb and no mistake!" murmured Dave. "Can you make it, Roger?"
"Top or bust!" was the laconic answer.