n of devils is in hiding there, they
must have finished their infernal cookery, and soared away to some
other haunt."

"Devils!" cried Mr. Smith. "Well, I hope they have not decamped
without leaving some traces of their occupation, some parings of
hoofs or horns or tails. We shall find them out."

On the morrow, the twenty-ninth of April, we started again at dawn.
By the end of this second day, we expected to reach the farm of
Wildon at the foot of the mountain. The country was much the same as
before, except that our road led more steeply upward. Woods and
marshes alternated, though the latter grew sparser, being drained by
the sun as we approached the higher levels. The country was also less
populous. There were only a few little hamlets, almost lost beneath
the beech trees, a few lonely farms, abundantly watered by the many
streams that rushed downward toward the Catawba River.

The smaller birds and beasts grew yet more numerous. "I am much
tempted to take my gun," said Mr. Smith, "and to go off with Nisko.
This will be the first time that I have passed here without trying my
luck with the partridges and hares. The good beasts will not
recognize me. But not only have we plenty of provisions, but we have
a bigger chase on hand today. The chase of a mystery."

"And let us hope," added I, "we do not come back disappointed
hunters."

In the afternoon the whole chain of the Blueridge stretched before us
at a distance of only six miles. The mountain crests were sharply
outlined against the clear sky. Well wooded at the base, they grew
more bare and showed only stunted evergreens toward the summit. There
the scraggly trees, grotesquely twisted, gave to the rocky heights a
bleak and bizarre appearance. Here and there the ridge rose in sharp
peaks. On our right the Black Dome, nearly seven thousand feet high,
reared its gigantic head, sparkling at times above the clouds.

"Have you ever climbed that dome, Mr. Smith?" I asked.

"No," answered he, "but I am told that it is a very difficult ascent.
A few mountaineers have climbed it; but they report that it has no
outlook commanding the crater of the Great Eyrie."

"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 s