“Good for you, Harry,” he exclaimed. “We'll try it! What do you say, St. Clair, you and Langdon?”
“I follow where you lead, and I hope that you lead to the top of the mountain,” replied St. Clair.
“Likely it's cold up there,” said Langdon, “but there are higher and colder mountains and I choose this one.”
They had learned promptness and decision from Stonewall Jackson, and Sherburne at once gave the order to ascend. Several men in his troop were natives of that part of the valley, and they knew the Massanuttons well. They led and the whole troop composed of youths followed eagerly. Bye and bye they dismounted and led their horses over the trails which grew slippery with wet and snow as they rose higher.
When they paused at times to rest they would all look northward over the great valley, where a magnificent panorama had gradually risen into view. They saw a vast stretch of fields turning green, neat villages, dark belts of forest, the gleam of brooks and creeks, and now and then, the glitter from a Northern bayonet.
At length the chief guide, a youth named Wallace, announced that the horses could go no farther. Even in summer when the snow was all gone and the earth was dry they could not find a footing. Now it was certain death for them to try the icy steeps.
Sherburne ordered the main body of the troop to halt in a forested and sheltered glen in the side of the mountain, and, choosing Harry, St. Clair, Langdon, the guide Wallace, and six others, he advanced with them on foot. It was difficult climbing, and more than once they were bruised by falls, but they learned to regard such accidents as trifles, and ardent of spirit they pressed forward.
“I think we'll get a good view,” said Sherburne. “See how brilliantly the sun is shining in the valley.”
“Yes, and the mists on the crests are clearing away,” said Harry.
“Then with the aid of the glasses we can get a sweep up the valley for many miles. Now boys, here we go! up! up!”