“Agreed,” said Uncle Dick, “but, mind you, you’ve only got to-night to cook him—I fear we might get caught in the high waters if we stopped here until you boiled it tender!”
They made ready now for their climb, each with a light pair of nailed boots and heavy stockings. Under their leader’s advice they stripped down to their flannel shirts, but each carried along a canvas jacket, ready to put on when they reached the upper heights where the wind was sure to be very cold. Uncle Dick carried John’s rifle, and Rob took his favorite camera, provided with a curtain shutter, and an eye-piece on top where he could look in and see the game on the ground glass and thus focus it properly. The weather was very fine, and they started out in the best of spirits.
They walked steadily up through the heavy pine forest which covered the foot of the mountain; and then, striking the steeper grade along a bare ridge, they climbed steadily until, turning about and looking down, they could see the glorious prospect which lay below them. The surface of the lake, deep green in color, barely wrinkled now by a light morning breeze, was visible from end to end, three miles or more. On the other side of it showed the bold peaks of Fitzwilliam mountain, back of that yet other peaks were disclosed as they climbed. In that direction there lay an undiscovered country, and they might well reflect that few even had looked out across it as they themselves now were doing from their lofty perch. They knew well enough that the old traders who passed through here rarely left the trail except for necessary hunting, but passed on through as rapidly as they might, this being merely their highway, and not their hunting-grounds.
“What is this, Uncle Dick?” called Rob, after a time, as, turning from their study of the noble landscape, they resumed their work of ascending the steep mountainside. Rob pointed to the broken surface of the ground at his feet.
“What do you mean, Rob?” asked the older hunter.
“It looks as if horses had been here,” said Rob, “yesterday, late.”
“Yes,” said Uncle Dick, smiling, “but not horses, I should say.”
“Maybe not,” said Rob, doubtfully. “But I thought maybe prospectors had been in here.”
“Only the original prospectors—the ones with white coats and long whiskers and sharp horns,” said Uncle Dick.
“But it looks like a regular trail!”