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“
The
Mountain
?
I
ain
’
t
afraid
of
the
Mountain
!
”
Her
tone
of
defiance
seemed
to
escape
him
.
He
lay
breast
-
down
on
the
grass
,
breaking
off
sprigs
of
thyme
and
pressing
them
against
his
lips
.
Far
off
,
above
the
folds
of
the
nearer
hills
,
the
Mountain
thrust
itself
up
menacingly
against
a
yellow
sunset
.
“
I
must
go
up
there
some
day
:
I
want
to
see
it
,
”
he
continued
.
Her
heart
-
beats
slackened
and
she
turned
again
to
examine
his
profile
.
It
was
innocent
of
all
unfriendly
intention
.
“
What
’
d
you
want
to
go
up
the
Mountain
for
?
”
“
Why
,
it
must
be
rather
a
curious
place
.
There
’
s
a
queer
colony
up
there
,
you
know
:
sort
of
out
-
laws
,
a
little
independent
kingdom
.
Of
course
you
’
ve
heard
them
spoken
of
;
but
I
’
m
told
they
have
nothing
to
do
with
the
people
in
the
valleys
—
rather
look
down
on
them
,
in
fact
.
I
suppose
they
’
re
rough
customers
;
but
they
must
have
a
good
deal
of
character
.
”
She
did
not
quite
know
what
he
meant
by
having
a
good
deal
of
character
;
but
his
tone
was
expressive
of
admiration
,
and
deepened
her
dawning
curiosity
.
It
struck
her
now
as
strange
that
she
knew
so
little
about
the
Mountain
.
She
had
never
asked
,
and
no
one
had
ever
offered
to
enlighten
her
.
North
Dormer
took
the
Mountain
for
granted
,
and
implied
its
disparagement
by
an
intonation
rather
than
by
explicit
criticism
.
“
It
’
s
queer
,
you
know
,
”
he
continued
,
“
that
,
just
over
there
,
on
top
of
that
hill
,
there
should
be
a
handful
of
people
who
don
’
t
give
a
damn
for
anybody
.
”
The
words
thrilled
her
.
They
seemed
the
clue
to
her
own
revolts
and
defiances
,
and
she
longed
to
have
him
tell
her
more
.
