“What had happened was not discovered by the Passagonquays until morning dawned. Then, as you may believe, there was something doing. The old chief called upon Agamenthan to bring the princess back, and Agamenthan promised to do so. With a dozen young warriors at his heels, he took up the trail. Three days and three nights they pursued the fleeing lovers with the tenacity of bloodhounds. Early on the fourth day the pursuers closed in upon Woganock and Lolokana, for the princess was weary. The moccasins were gone from her bleeding feet, and even Woganock’s great strength had been terribly taxed through bearing the maiden in his arms over many of the rough places. They were trapped in the mountains yonder. No matter which way they sought to flee, they found themselves cut off, and eventually, with the pursuers closing in, they were driven out upon the very brink of that great cliff where the cross now stands. They could not descend, and to turn back into the forest from which they had come meant nothing save final capture, even though they were to slip through the cordon of pursuers.
“There upon the cliff, with half his followers at his heels, Agamenthan found them. His eyes blazing with triumph, the Passagonquay advanced, shouting exultantly that this time the dog of a Mattagamon should surely die.
“With their hands clasped, Woganock and Lolokana looked into each other’s eyes and spoke a few low words. When Agamenthan was less than forty feet distant Woganock laughed at him and cried, ‘Fool! idiot! warrior with the heart of a rabbit! spawn of a crawling snake! creature that I have conquered and spit upon! if you would take Lolokana from me, follow.’
“In a twinkling he had caught the princess up in his arms, and her arms were around his neck. In another twinkling, before the eyes of the horrified Agamenthan, he leaped far out from the brink of the precipice. No sound, no cry did the lovers make as they fell. Even the ragged rocks at the foot of the cliff could not tear them apart. They were found among those rocks, dead, but still locked fast in each other’s arms.
“That’s the legend of Lovers’ Leap. The hotel people have put up the cross to mark the spot from which Woganock sprang. There is a path, passing round the cliff, which may be climbed by anyone who wishes to visit the cross and has the energy and perseverance. Each day several of the guests at the hotel climb that path.”
CHAPTER XII.
THE STORY OF THE HERMIT.
The boys had listened with deep interest to this story, told by Granger in a manner which seemed to indicate that he had it well by heart. After the tale was ended there was silence for a moment or two, broken by Piper, who observed with no small amount of sarcasm:
“Talk about imagination! I call that going some! Who ever polished up that gem of a yarn certainly put in some fancy touches.”
“The story is said to be true,” said the visitor, with a touch of warmth.