“Yes; but Blake first took a squint at the scenery. Just see if you’ve got everything, and fix your hats. We’ll be in the sun for half a mile or so. Better get on the coat, Miss Leslie. It’s hotter than yesterday.”
“Permit me,” said Winthrope.
Blake watched while the Englishman held the coat for the girl and rather fussily raised the collar about her neck and turned back the sleeves, which extended beyond the tips of her fingers. The American’s face was stolid; but his glance took in every little look and act of his companions. He was not altogether unversed in the ways of good society, and it seemed to him that the Englishman was somewhat over-assiduous in his attentions.
“All ready, Blake,” remarked Winthrope, finally, with a last lingering touch.
“’Bout time!” grunted Blake. “You’re fussy as a tailor. Got the flask and cigarette case and the knife?”
“All safe, sir–er–all safe, Blake.”
“Then you two follow me slow enough not to worry that ankle. I don’t want any more of the pack-mule in mine.”
“Where are we going, Mr. Blake?” exclaimed Miss Leslie. “You will not leave us again!”
“It’s only a half-mile, Miss Jenny. There’s a break in the ridge. I’m going on ahead to find if it’s hard to climb.”
“But why should we climb?”