“Hadn’t we better take overcoats, in case it comes on cold at the top?” said Jeffreys as they were starting.
“Oh no—they’re a frightful grind to carry, and we are sure to be baked before we get up.”
“I think I will take mine,” said Jeffreys, “and it will be no bother to carry yours.”
Percy protested, but, luckily for them, Jeffreys carried his point.
Wild Pike was one of those mountains, not uncommon in that district, which are approached from the back by a long gradual slope, but on the front present a scooped-out precipitous face, as if broken in half on that side.
It was this steeper side which faced Wildtree, and Percy would have scorned to approach the monster from any other quarter. From where they stood the narrow path zigzagged for about one thousand feet onto one of the upper shoulders of the mountain. Following this, the track brought them to what seemed like the basin of some old volcano hollowed out under the summit.
It was necessary to cross this depression, and by a narrow ledge at the foot of the great cliff gain the other side, where another zigzag ascent brought them onto the rocky slope leading over a quarter of a mile of huge boulders to the summit.
The passage across the face of the mountain was the most difficult part of the ascent. It lay along a narrow ledge hanging, so it seemed, half-way down the perpendicular cliff which rose out of the hollow, crater-like basin sheer up to the summit.
It was tolerably level, but the narrowness of the track and the precipitous height above and below called for a cool head and a steady foot. In frosty weather like the present it needed special caution, and every step had to be carefully judged on the treacherous path. However, they passed it safely. Julius alone seemed to find it difficult. The dog was strangely awkward to-day.
He slid about where the others walked steadily, and whimpered at obstacles which they seemed scarcely to heed.