IT was a half hour’s climb to the top of the ridge, it being so precipitous in places that even a lusty youth like Harvey Hamilton had to pause more than once to rest his limbs and regain his wind. He accomplished his task in due time and reaching the crest, uttered an exclamation of amazement at the wonderful beauty of the landscape spread before him.  
He had crossed the boundary of the county and was in Essex, which includes nearly all of the romantic Adirondack region, familiar to the thousands who visit it every year. As far as the vision could travel were wooded mountain peaks, craggy spurs, lakes, some of considerable size, the headwaters of the Hudson and other rivers, waterfalls, dashing streams, the country dotted here and there with straggling hamlets, a fashionable hotel or two, scattered cabins and rude dwellings, while tiny columns of smoke climbing through the treetops told where parties had their camps and were living in the open, with the sensible resolve to get all that the forest, redolent with spruce and balsam, could give them.
With the aid of his glass, Harvey identified a canoe containing a man and woman, the latter paddling up the winding stream far to the left, while on the shore of the lake, to the right, gleamed the white tent of some campers. He even recognized the tiny figures moving about, and saw a man enter a canoe and hurry out upon the sheet of water, which gleamed like a vast mirror of silver.
 
The view was worth traveling thousands of miles to enjoy. In all his wanderings through Switzerland, the Tyrol, and Italy, Harvey had beheld nothing like it. While those parts of the Old World far surpass the Adirondacks in magnificence and grandeur, there was a certain witching charm in this place not easily describable that enthralled the young American and held him mute under a spell that no European scene had been able to weave about him.
 
While in other circumstances he could have stood or sat for hours drinking in the fascinating beauty, he could not keep his thoughts from the serious task upon which he had entered days before. Bohunkus Johnson, if alive, was in peril from the demented man who held him a prisoner, and his rescue must be accomplished without waste of time.
 
Somewhere in that unrivaled landscape, Professor[102] Morgan had gone with his monoplane. Possibly he had crossed the limit of the searcher’s vision, but the latter did not think it likely. At any rate he determined to examine the territory at his feet before entering new fields.
 
The prosaic truth forced itself upon Harvey Hamilton that his most pressing need just then was food. He was sure he never felt quite so hungry, and there was no call for him to suffer so long as he was in a land of plenty, where hospitality is the law.
 
His first intention was to go down the slope to the lake, on whose bank the tent stood. He knew he would be welcome and be given abundantly of what he needed. But the spot was two miles off at least, and somehow he disliked meeting a party of jovial campers, as they were likely to be. He was not in the mood for jest and quip and feared that the contact would not help him in his self-appointed task.
 
In the opposite direction from the lake, nestling in a small clearing, was a cabin similar to those which he had seen during his adventurous days in eastern Pennsylvania. It was not more than a third as far from where he stood as the camp. While he observed no one moving about, a tiny spiral of smoke climbing from the stone chimney[103] showed that the dwelling had occupants. He decided to go thither.
 
This compelled him to leave his aeroplane behind. Had the distance been greater he would have used it, though still dreading a sudden return of the crazy inventor and his machine. His own brief flight to the spot did not seem to have attracted attention and he gave the matter no further thought, but set out at once.
 
As he drew near the humble structure he was favorably impressed. It was made of logs, but the two or three acres of surrounding ground were under cultivation and the vegetables were not only plentiful and vigorous, but there was an air of neatness brooding over all, that proved the owner and occupant to be thrifty and tasteful. The front of the house was covered with climbing vines and flowers, and the windowpanes were clean, as was the little porch upon which he stepped.
 
That which he now saw pleased him still more, for an old-fashioned latchstring hung outside in accord with the primitive form of welcome. When the leathern string thus shows it says: “Come in without knocking.”
 
All the same, Harvey hardly felt warranted in accepting the invitation. Instead, he knocked sharply, and straightway bumped into another[104] surprise. He heard quick footsteps, the lifting of the latch from within, and then the door was drawn back. He had raised his hat in salutation but recoiled in pleased astonishment.
 
“Well, I declare!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t expect to meet you here.”
 
“Nor did I think I should ever see you again,” was the reply, as the girl extended her hand, which was grasped and shaken.
 
She was Ann Harbor, the daughter of the keeper of the Washington Hotel in Purvis, where Harvey had spent a night a short time before.
 
“Come in,” said she hospitably; “Aunty will be as glad as me to see you.”
 
Harvey stepped across the threshold into the living-room of the tidy dwelling. Seated at the opposite window was a small, neat, motherly-looking woman in spectacles engaged in sewing. She looked up with a winsome smile and greeted the visitor as his name was announced. She was Hephzibah Akers, sister of the landlord of the Washington Hotel, in Purvis, with whom her niece Ann was a favorite. Hat in one hand, the young aviator bowed and extended the other to the woman. She motioned him to a chair and expressed her pleasure in welcoming him to her humble[105] home. After a few commonplaces, Harvey turned to Ann, who had also seated herself.
 
“You are quite a distance from Purvis?” he said inquiringly.
 
“Not so very far,” she replied lightly; “Aunty doesn’t come to see us often, so I run up to see her.”
 
“I am not as young as she is,” replied the elder, “and she is kind enough to come to see me, though not half as often as I should like to have her come.”
 
“How long have you been here?” asked Harvey.
 
“I left home yesterday morning; bus’ness is dull with paw just now and he let me come up to Aunty’s for a day or two. I shall have to go back to-morrow or next day. Now, how is it you are here when I thought you had gone to your home in New Jersey?”
 
The visitor had considered this question before it was asked. He decided that the best course was to be frank with the woman. So in a few words he told them that Professor Morgan had taken the colored lad with him, and since the aviator was known to be unbalanced in mind, Harve............