"No!" said she in a tone of decision. "I'll lead the way for those who choose to follow to the summit of Mount Washington."
"Bravo!"—"hurrah!"—"let us on!"—burst from all sides. Three solitary ones, among them Ellen Williams, turned back, and the others formed into file and moved onward. Down Mount Franklin and over the narrow path cut in the cragged side of Monroe, where a single misstep would hurl the horse and rider down a fathomless abyss, into whose depths the eye dares hardly for a moment gaze. Then appeared a crystal lakelet, and a little plain covered with a seedy-looking grass, where the horses rested and refreshed themselves ere the last desperate trial of their strength and endurance; for the weary band of adventurers had reached at last the base of the mighty Washington, whose summit was veiled in heavy clouds. As they loitered in the plain, the muffled gentleman again approached Florence, and inquired if she was unattended.
"No, sir," said she. "My father is among the party, also a friend; but they are not yet come up."
He lingered a moment, and then asked if she would like to dismount.
As the voice met her ear more distinctly, it struck her it had a familiar sound, and a sudden thought flashed across her mind. She thanked him for his politeness, but said she was too cold to move.
Her father and young Williams now appeared. "How do you brave it, Florence?" said Major Howard, drawing in his breath with a shudder.
"Very well, father," answered she.
When the muffled gentleman heard the name Florence pronounced, he started suddenly and darted a swift glance on the speaker. Then turning away, he remounted his steed and rode into the front ranks of the line that was forming. Soon the band commenced their toilsome ascent. The path wound over perpendicularly-piled masses of gigantic granite boulders. Often it seemed the poor tired animals, with their utmost efforts, would never be able to surmount the prodigious rocks that obstructed their way. Cold, blustering clouds of mists drove in the faces of the forlorn little party as they labored up and up the precipitous steeps, till it seemed to many a despairing heart that the summit of that tremendous mountain would never, never be gained. So densely hung the threatening clouds around them, they could not tell their distance from the wished-for goal. At length the guides halloed to the foremost rider to halt; and directly Florence felt herself in the arms of a strong man, who sprang over the craggy rocks with surprising agility, and soon placed her on the door-stone of a small habitation, which was not only "founded on a rock," but surrounded on all sides by huge piles of gray granite boulders.
In a few moments the whole dripping, half-frozen party were landed safely at the "Summit House," on the brow of Mount Washington. Great was their joy to find a comfortable shelter where they might rest and warm their chilled limbs; but great also was their dismay to find a storm upon them, and nothing visible from the miraculous height they had toiled to gain, but the wet rocks lying close beneath the small windows.
CHAPTER XXXIV.