"It's the going up that's the horrid difficulty!" panted Johnny, whose legs were rather short to interlace in the banister rails and thus heave himself upwards as the other boys did.
"Difficulties were made on purpose to be overcome," loftily said Mark, "and mountain railways are full of them. Now then, Clary," he shouted upstairs, "why don't you be a passenger? Aren't you getting tired of living up in the mountain hotel? Don't you want to come home and see your family?"
"Yeth, I do want to come home," piped a small voice from far away up under the roof. "So does my Hilda Rose," and Clary's little fair head peered over the top banister.
"Come along then!" recklessly shouted the boys. "Can't you get aboard the funicular yourself and start your journey?"
"What sillies girls are; just like women, always expecting somebody to hand them in and hand them out!" grumbled Mark, who, being the guard, felt bound to go up and start the lady passenger.
"Now then, ma'am," he said briskly, "you and your little girl had better get in. Train's going to start when I wave this green flag!"
"Oh, please hold my Hilda Rose until I get my seat," nervously said the passenger. "Oh! Mark—I mean Mr. Guard, do you think that Hilda Rose and me can go down wifout falling?"
"Why, of course!" scornfully answered the guard. "Haven't you been on a funicular before—the real thing? What's the use of bragging about the dangers you've been through if you can't face them a second time? Now, then, are you ready, ma'am?"
Oliver was stooping over the senseless little figure.