“I know it, Kid. I don’t claim to have much sense—you’ll just have to put up with me.”
“You won’t gain anything, either,” Gordon continued spitefully. “My father knows him; he belongs to a trust and he’ll manage to get around the law all right.”
“He’s a pretty shrewd business man, I should say,” Harry commented.
“You bet he is, and he’ll think up a way.”
“He’s like you, Kid, eh?”
CHAPTER XIV
ON DIBBLE MOUNTAIN
The belated quest of the needle in the haystack now went forward in real earnest. In the cool of that same afternoon they stood on the brow of Dibble Mountain. Gordon’s hands were dyed purple from the berries he had picked and eaten along the way, and a goodly smootch ornamented his cheek. Sometimes the ascent was so steep that they found the easiest way was to “shinny” up the slender trees along the mountain side, and step off on to the jutting cliffs. It was slow work. From a great bowlder they finally looked down upon the surrounding country, which now, for the first time, as Gordon said, actually did look like a map.
To the east, and almost under them, as it seemed, was the lake, and beyond it the green hills of western Vermont. On its northern side the mountain sloped gradually, including Breed’s Hill and Sugar Hill in its easy descent, and beyond these lay the little village of Crown Point. Close on the west rose the great bulk of Buck Mountain, towering above them and closing out their view. Five miles southward lay Ticonderoga, and looking to the west of the village the boys followed an imaginary course northward, trying to pick out in the dense woods the location of the Albany camp. The several roads which they had traversed looked like gray pencilings.
Between them and the lofty Buck Mountain ran a high, walled valley, almost a cañon indeed, known as Burgoyne’s Pass, for it was through this valley that the British general led his army for the surprise of Ticonderoga,—the army which, hungry and forlorn, was destined to surrender to the Americans at Saratoga. Far in the north, but near enough to see its outline clearly, rose Bald Knob, a veritable monarch amid its great neighbors. Here and there thin columns of smoke rose, suggesting pleasant habitations and reminding the hungry boys that it was supper time.
“Well, what do you think of our seats up in the family circle, Kid? Pretty good view up here, hey?”