its importance, goes singing on its way through dim green woods of hemlock and maple and oak. In imagination the climber can see the needle-strewn way striking up some steep pitch, beside the frolicking stream, pausing now to take a loop and find the Spring that Will Hyde found, then sturdily again attacking the abrupt heights, up and up and up, the red cross steadily pointing out the way. Many a time has the climber taken that path and he retraces it in memory, looking down at the sunny, smiling valley below.
Out beyond glimmers Thorndyke Pond in its shining length. On every side dots of dancing sunshine punctuate the landscape from gleaming sheets of water. The climber pulls off his hat and waves it in a general greeting to each loved landmark hailing him from far and near.
Then, finally, in his onward course comes the last steep, but not difficult ascent winding past the old Lead mine, up ledge after ledge till he tops the highest and at last
