“How I dread the steep hills,” said Mrs. Ashford as they were being helped into the wagon after the baggage had been stowed away. “I do hope your horses are safe, Hiram. Now, Marty, be sure to hold on with both hands when we come to the worst places.”
“Don't you be 'fraid, Mrs. Ashford; there isn't a mite of danger,” said Hiram, gathering up the reins. “Get up!”
“Get up!” cried Freddie, who had watched the process of getting started with the greatest interest, and who was now holding a pair of imaginary reins in one tiny fist and flourishing an imaginary whip with the other.
Hiram laughed aloud. That Freddie could walk was funny enough, but that he could talk and make believe drive was too much for Hiram. It was some time before he got over it.
“How's Evaline?” asked Marty. “Why didn't she come to meet us?”
“She's spry. She wanted to come along down, but her ma was afraid 'twould crowd you.”
They approached an open, level place from which there was a magnificent view. Page 113
After a drive of about three miles among the mountains, the winding road gradually ascending, with here and there a somewhat steep incline, they approached an open, level place from which there was a magnificent view of what Marty called the “real mountains.” For these wooded or cultivated hills they were driving among were only the beginnings of the range. Here was a cluster of houses and a white frame “hotel” with green blinds.
“They've been doing right smart of building in Riseborough since you were up,” said Hiram to Mrs. Ashford. “You see the hotel's done, and Sims has built him a new store, and Mrs. Clarkson's been building on to her cottage.”