“So this is the way?” cried the man.
“Yes: the castle is up there,” and Ralph pointed.
“What! in ruins?” cried the captain.
“Ruins? No!” cried Ralph. “Those stones are natural; the top of the cliff. Our place is behind them. They do look like ruins, though.”
“Hah! But what an eagle’s nest. No wonder I find an eaglet on my way.”
Ralph winced, for the man clapped a dirty hand upon his shoulder, and gripped him fast, turning the lad into a walking-staff to help him on his road.
“Have you come far this morning?” said Ralph, to conceal his disgust.
“Ay, miles and miles, over stones and streams, and in and out among mines and holes. We were benighted, too, up yonder on the mountain.”
“Hill,” said Ralph; “we have no mountains here.”
“Hills when you’re fresh, lad; mountains when you’re footsore and weary. But we stumbled upon a niche, in a bit of a slope near the top, and turned out the bats and foxes, and slept there.”