And so, amid much fun and laughter, the ascent began, Mr. Macleod having succeeded in finding a shepherd well accustomed to act as a guide. One thing only he insisted on—the picnic on the hill-side must be abandoned, if they had any intentions of reaching the top. Some slight refreshments they might carry with them; but the dinner must take place after they had come down.
The view, even half-way up the hill; was charming—mountains, peak on peak, rising around, giving them a foretaste of the more expansive view to be seen from the summit.
Bravely they pressed on, especially the mountain-bred children, whose limbs were well accustomed to the act of climbing, and whose feet loved to press the springy heather. More and more solitary did the scene become as they ascended, and left even the lonely Farm Inn far below.
God's impress seemed set on all around. Surely the majesty and power of the Almighty Creator are wonderfully felt amid mountain scenery. All the children felt it, though in greater or less degree: it was as if they had come nearer God than ever before.
But it was Ronald who, as he walked between his uncle and the shepherd, uttered almost involuntarily the words:
"Great is the Lord, and of great power: his understanding is infinite."
"Praise the Lord from the heavens: praise him in the heights."
As he spoke, the shepherd reverently lifted his cap. "Ay," he said, "it's on the heights we can best feel as if we can best praise the Lord, young sir; yet down in the vales, he can hear our voices also, and like sweet melody, our songs o' praise sound in the ear o' the Almighty. But it's grand to walk the heights and to watch the clouds as they gather on the mountain-tops. But 'deed, sirs, I likena' the look o' the clouds noo. I much doubt our reaching the top. An' we must take heed, for the mists gather quickly; an' well though I know the way, still it's hard to find your whereabouts in the mist. I think the leddies, at least, should go no further, but rest here while we go on a bit further an' see what like it looks."
There was a loud demur at this from Nora and even Clara.
"O uncle!" and "O Mr. Macleod! Let us go on too; we will not be beat—we must get to the top."
But just then rain began to fall. They had already got into the midst of a cloud; and somewhat abashed, they stood still to consider.