"Yes, but let's search again," she urged. "My strong belief is that entrance is not to be obtained from this side, but from the glen down below."
"Yes, no doubt in the ages long ago the hill was much steeper than it now is, and there were no trees or undergrowth. On that side it was impregnable. The river, however, in receding, silted up much earth and boulders at the bend, and has made the ascent possible."
Together they went to a breach in the ponderous walls and peered down into the ancient river-bed, now but a rippling burn.
"Very well," replied Murie, "let us descend and explore."
So they retraced their steps until, when about half-way to the house, they left the path and went down to the bottom of the beautiful glen until they were immediately beneath the old castle.
The spot was remote and seldom visited. Few ever came there, for it was approached by no path on that side of the burn, so that the keepers always passed along the opposite bank. They had no necessity to penetrate there. Besides, it was too near the house.
Through the bracken and undergrowth, passing by big trees that in the ages had sprung up from seedlings dropped by the birds or sown by the winds, they slowly ascended to the frowning walls far above—the walls that had withstood so many sieges and the ravages of so many centuries.
Half a dozen times the girl's skirt became entangled in the briars, and once she tore her cape upon some thorns. But, enjoying the adventure, she went on, Walter going first and clearing a way for her as best he could.
"Nobody has ever been up here before, I'm quite certain," Gabrielle cried, halting, breathless, for a moment. "Old Stewart, who says he knows every inch of the estate, has never climbed here, I'm sure."
"I don't expect he has," declared her lover.