"That is so," said the guide, Harry Horn. "I have tried it myself."

"Perhaps," suggested I, "the weather was unfavorable."

"On the contrary, Mr. Strock, it was unusually clear. But the wall of
the Great Eyrie on that side rose so high, it completely hid the
interior."

"Forward," cried Mr. Smith. "I shall not be sorry to set foot where
no person has ever stepped, or even looked, before."

Certainly on this day the Great Eyrie looked tranquil enough. As we
gazed upon it, there rose from its heights neither smoke nor flame.

Toward five o'clock our expedition halted at the Wildon farm, where
the tenants warmly welcomed their landlord. The farmer assured us
that nothing notable had happened about the Great Eyrie for some
time. We supped at a common table with all the people of the farm;
and our sleep that night was sound and wholly untroubled by
premonitions of the future.

On the morrow, before break of day, we set out for the ascent of the
mountain. The height of the Great Eyrie scarce exceeds five thousand
feet. A modest altitude, often surpassed in this section of the
Alleghanies. As we were already more than three thousand feet above
sea level, the fatigue of the ascent could not be great. A few hours
should suffice to bring us to the crest of the crater. Of course,
difficulties might present themselves, precipices to scale, clefts
and breaks in the ridge might necessitate painful and even dangerous
detours. This was the unknown, the spur to our attempt. As I said,