For half a mile farther they loped along the trail that led them to the top of a hill that stood a little higher than the others round about. Upon the hilltop they drew rein.
“What do you think of that for a view?” said the doctor.
Before them stretched the wide valley of the Bow for many miles, sweeping up toward the mountains, with rounded hills on either side, and far beyond the hills the majestic masses of the Rockies some fifty miles away, snow-capped, some of them, and here and there upon their faces the great glaciers that looked like patches of snow. Through this wide valley wound the swift flowing Bow, and up from it on either side the hills, rough with rocks and ragged masses of pine, climbed till they seemed to reach the very bases of the mountains beyond. Over all the blue arch of sky spanned the wide valley and seemed to rest upon the great ranges on either side, like the dome of a vast cathedral.
Silent, with lips parted and eyes alight with wonder, Moira sat and gazed upon the glory of that splendid scene.
“What do you think—” began the doctor.
She put out her hand and touched his arm.
“Please don't speak,” she breathed, “this is not for words, but for worship.”
Long she continued to gaze in rapt silence upon the picture spread out before her. It was, indeed, a place for worship. She pointed to a hill some distance in front of them.
“You have been beyond that?” she asked in a hushed voice.
“Yes, I have been all through this country. I know it well. From the top of that hill we get a magnificent sweep toward the south.”