“Do you think we should have told her we wanted to call?”
“Oh, no! she don’t mind strangers. She goes about her chores jes th’ same ez ef no one was there,” said Mark.
The seven horses padded softly up the grassy trail, and when they reached the cross-trail near the top of the mountain Mark reined in his mount.
“Now, yeh foller that trail to the crest an’ then turn t’ th’ left. Foller the road clear on till yeh come to the Cabin.”
Mark waited and watched until the last horse had disappeared on top of the mountain, then he rode back to camp to wait. The scouts continued on the trail, passing noisy streams that ran madly over rocks or fell over cliffs. The birds and flowers were many-hued and beautiful, so that every step of the way was enjoyable. Mr. Gilroy rode in front, and the Captain at the rear of the line.
After a ride of about three miles along the Crest, Mr. Gilroy stopped his horse and looked at a tiny cabin half-hidden under vines and giant trees. It sat back from the trail about twenty feet, and might have been passed by unless one was looking for it.
“Isn’t that lovely?” Joan said.
“Yes, in summer; but think how dreadful it would be in winter,” added Julie.
“She doesn’t live here all winter, does she?” asked Ruth.
“Yes; Mark says she won’t leave the place, although her granddaughter—the aviator’s mother, you know—begged her to move down to her home,” explained Mrs. Vernon.