glorious of all mountain drives—especially when we go fast, as Etienne knows I like to. Yonder is one of the finest vistas. At one time you can see a whole long valley with mountain after mountain rising up from it, each of them with its Kabyle town upon the top and most of the summits lower than we are. You are wasting your time looking at me, my friend; you must not miss this valley below us."
He was obedient and glanced down briefly. "Yes; it's extraordinary," he said, and, finding himself a little dizzy, looked forward to steady his eyes.
Before him the road still zigzagged up and up, until, high above it, perched on unending perpendicular pinnacles of rock, he seemed incredibly to see regular walls and shapes like houses. "My heavens!" he exclaimed. "These Kabyles haven't got a town up there, have they? People don't live up on the end of a lead pencil a mile high like that, do they?"
She laughed happily. "Not Kabyles; no. Those are French up there. It is where we are going."
"What!"
"But only to pass through," she assured him. "We go on a great deal farther. Michelet is much higher. That is only Fort National."
"Oh, it is?" he said feebly.
