"That," Milton Rhodes smiled, "isn't a man, Bill."
"Not a man?"
"It's a marmot," Milton told me.
"A marmot? Well," said I, "we live and we learn. I could have sworn, Milton, that it was a human being."
The ascent was a steep one, and we climbed in silence. The horse-trail, coming from the left, goes slanting and then twisting its way up this rocky rampart. On reaching the path, we paused for some moments to get our breath, then plodded on.
"I was thinking," said Milton Rhodes at last, "of what Francis Parkman said."
"What did he say?"
"'I would go farther for one look into the crater of Vesuvius than to see all the ruined temples in Italy.'"
"I wonder," I returned, "how far we shall have to go to see that angel that says Drome, not to mention her pretty demon."
Rhodes laughed.