So far, he had followed her instructions and admitted that she had directed him well, because it was hard to imagine there was anything in England finer than the country he had seen.  The mountains had not the majestic grandeur of the British Columbian ranges, but they were wild enough, and pierced by dales steeped in sylvan beauty.  The chasm in which he now rested had an impressive ruggedness.

Blinks of sunshine touched the lower face of the crag, and in their track the dark rock glittered with a steely luster, but trails of mist rolled among the crannies above.  Below, a precipitous slope of small stones that the dalesmen call a scree ran down to a hollow strewn with broken rocks, and across this he could distinguish the blurred flat top of another height.  The mountain dropped to a dale that looked profoundly deep, although he could not see its bottom.

The light was puzzling.  For the most part, the sky was clear and the gleams of sun were hot, but heavy, black clouds drifted about, and a thick gray haze obscured the lower ground.  Rain and mist would be dangerous obstacles, but Festing understood that he could reach the dale in about two hours’ steady walking.  Muriel had told him where to stop; indeed, she had been rather particular about this, and had recommended him to spend two days in the neighborhood.  Luckily, there would be no crags to climb if he kept the path across the summit, for he had found it easier to reach the top of the hills than get down by a different line.

A rattle of stones made him look up, and he saw two girls silhouetted in a flash of sunshine against the face of the crag.  They carried bulging rucksacks and were coming down towards him, picking their way among the tumbled rocks.  He could not see the face of the first, but noticed her light poise and graceful movements as she sprang from stone to stone.  The other followed cautiously and Festing thought she limped, but when the first stopped to wait for her and lifted her head he felt a curious thrill.  It was Helen Dalton.

He sat still, knowing his gray clothes would be hard to distinguish among the stones, and wondering what to do.  He did not want to force his society upon the girl just yet, but would be disappointed if she passed.  She came on, and when her eyes rested on him he got up.  A flush of embarrassment colored her face, but she stopped and greeted him with a smile.

“Mr. Festing!  How did you get here?”

“I came over the Pike,” said Festing.  “I’m going to the dale.”

“So are we,” said Helen, who presented him to her companion.

Festing remarked that they wore jackets that had a tanned look, unusually short skirts, and thick nailed boots.  Then he thought Helen’s eyes twinkled.

“You would not have expected to find me engaged in anything so strenuous as this?”

“It is rather strenuous,” Miss Jardine broke in.  “You can stand if you like; I’m going to sit down.”