His young limbs, hardened by constant mountain climbing, did not tire
readily, while his experience of traveling enabled him to keep the
general course he wished to go, notwithstanding the branch trails and
the many windings caused by the ruggedness of the country.

The latter portion of the afternoon was occupied in climbing a long
mountain range that overtopped most of the others in sight. The sun
was nearly setting as he reached the summit; then he uttered an
exclamation of astonishment.

Behind him was a confused jumble of peaks and ridges as far as the eye
could reach. It was the region he had left--his own native wilds.

Before him stretched an undulating panorama of plain, valley, and
gentle hills. There were patches of woodland, great plantations with
here and there variegated spots that Ralph supposed to be villages.

It was his first view of the level country beyond the Blue Ridge, and
he surveyed it with intense interest.

"They say it stretches that way clear to the seacoast," he said to
himself as he began to descend the mountain. "I don't see how they can
see any distance with no big ridges to look off from."

This idea--otherwise laughable--was perfectly natural to a lad who had
never seen anything but wild and rugged mountains in his life.

He quickened his pace, wishing to get down into the region of farms and
houses before darkness should come. A rising cloud in the southeast
also occasioned him some concern.