CHAPTER VI.


The little mountain of Hochberg rose about half way between Fürstenstein
and Rodeck. It was celebrated, and justly, for the fine and extensive
view which could be obtained from its highest point. An ancient stone
tower, all that now remained of a castle long since fallen into decay,
stood upon the extreme summit.

A few peasants, more zealous than their neighbors, had built a little
inn or house of rest and refreshment at its base. They made a pretense
of keeping the mountain roads in order, and demanded a fair toll from
the stray tourist who came to climb the winding tower stairs.

Strangers came but seldom, however, into this wild, unknown mountain
region. In the autumn especially, visitors were few and far between.
This bright, warm September day had, however, proved seductive. Two
gentlemen on horseback, attended by a groom, had dismounted at the door
and gone up into the little tower, and they had been followed, a half
hour later, by some guests from the neighborhood, who had driven up the
mountain-side in a light carriage.

The gentlemen were now standing on a little stone platform of the tower,
and one of them was talking eagerly and excitedly as he called his
companion's attention to certain newly-discovered beauties in the
landscape. "Yes, our Hochberg is celebrated, there's no doubt of that,"