"Oh, sure. Go ahead. Don't mind me. I'll wait until you come back. And there's a good spring on that hill. It's supposed to have some medicinal virtue. I don't take much stock in that, but I know it's good and cold, for I used to drink there when I was a boy."
"I'm going to have some," asserted Paul. "I'm as dry as codfish."
Though the boys somewhat regretted not having Mr. Brockhurst to accompany them, the thought of a cool drink at the summit of the hill hurried them on, for the day was warm.
They looked back to see the lame man still sitting on the grass plot, gazing up at them. He waved his hand in a friendly fashion.
"Say, this is some view!" exclaimed Paul, as they reached the summit.
"I should say yes!" assented Dick. "I'm glad we came up."
Down before them, rolling in a series of gentle slopes, was a vast extent of country. There was a great plain, and, in the distance, mountains arising, blue and purple in the haze of the summer day.
"It's magnificent!" murmured Innis. "It makes a fellow feel—well, like poetry," he finished for want of something better to say.
"It makes me more thirsty to see that water," added Paul, pointing to a little stream, that, like a silver ribbon, made its tortuous way through a distant green meadow.
"Let's look for that spring," suggested Dick, after a few minutes of gazing at the view, which was really superb.