Robin, meantime, had bent his steps in their direction. In his genial manner and with his mellow voice he acknowledged the greetings of this little group of guests. He had just recalled, he said to Constance, having seen something, during a recent trip over McIntyre, which he had at first taken for a very beautiful and peculiar flower. Later he had decided it might be of special interest to her. It had a flower shape, he said, and was pink in color, but was like wax, resembling somewhat the Indian pipe, but with more open flowers and much more beautiful. He did not recall having seen anything of the sort before, and would have brought home one of the waxen blooms, only that he had been going the other way and they seemed too tender to carry. He thought it a fungus growth.
Constance was deeply interested in his information, and the description of what seemed to her a possible discovery of importance. She made him repeat the details as nearly as he could recollect, and with the book attempted to classify the species. Her failure to do so only stimulated her enthusiasm.
"I suppose you could find the place, again," she said.
"Easily. It is only a few steps from the tripod at the peak," and he drew with his pencil a plan of the spot.
"I've heard the McIntyre trail is not difficult to keep," Constance reflected.
"No--provided, of course, one does not get into a fog. It's harder then. I lost the trail myself up there once in a thick mist."
The girl turned to Frank, who was lounging comfortably on the steps, idly smoking.
"Suppose we try it this afternoon," she said.
Mr. Weatherby lifted his eyes to where Algonquin lay--its peaks among the clouds.
"It looks pretty foggy up there--besides, it will be rather late starting for a climb like that."
"Yes," she said, rather crossly, "it will always be too foggy, or too late, or too early for you. Do you know," she added, to the company at large, "this young man hasn't offered to climb a mountain, or to go trouting, once since he's been here. I don't believe he means to, all summer. He said the other day that mountains and streams were made for scenery--not to climb and fish in."
The company discussed this point. Miss Carroway told of a hill near Haverford which she used to climb, as a girl. Frank merely smiled good-naturedly.