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Updated: May 2, 2025
Just the same I thought poets wore whiskers and eyeglasses, an' never tripped up foot-racers at Sunday picnics, nor run around with as few clothes on as the law allows, gatherin' mussels an' climbin' like goats."
I put my arm through the coil of rope, and, slinging it snugly over my shoulder, began to climb the pine. It was the work of only a moment to reach the first branch. "Wal, I reckon you're some relation to a squirrel at thet," said Hiram Bent. "Jest as I thought the little cuss is climbin' higher. Thet's goin' to worry us." It was like stepping up a ladder from the first branch to the fork.
But I spoze I must have droze off, for all to once I wuz passin' through a great silent city. Hours and hours I trod up and down broad stun highways, through endless parks and Pleasure Places, climbin' interminable flights of marble stairs, walkin' through immense picture galleries.
You've seen them thrashin' machines they're usin' round here. The sort, you know, where the horses keep steppin' up a board thing 's if they was climbin' up-hill or goin' up a pair o' stairs, only they don't never get along a mite; they keep right in the same place all the time, steppin' and steppin', but never gittin' on. Well, I knew a horse once, that worked on one o' them things.
At last he managed to say: "Miss Edie, we'se all a leanin' on you. We'se nothin' but vines a climbin' up de orange-bush. If you goes down, we all does. And now, Miss Edie, I'd swallow pison for you. Won't you take a cup o' tea for de sake of ole Hannibal?
She smiled as she carefully charted the temperature line. "Kin I look at it?" queried Pete. She gave the chart to him and he studied it frowningly. "What's this here that looks like a range of mountains ?" he asked. "Your temperature." And she explained the meaning of the wavering line. "Gee! Back here I sure was climbin' the high hills! That's a interestin' tally-sheet."
"Hurry up," called Sammy, "we're waitin'." After this there was nothing else for the young man to do but join them. And the three were soon making their way up the steep mountain road together. For a time they talked of commonplace things, then Young Matt opened the subject that was on all their hearts. "I reckon, Ollie, this is the last time that you'll ever be a climbin' this old road."
You never see no child'n climbin' 'round on her, and there was a story that queer noises like moanin' and clankin' of chains come out of her on windy nights; but it might 'a' been the ice, crowdin' as she careened over and back with the risin' and fallin' tide.
An' then she told us ow' when they rang a bell somebody was goin' to put Mortimer to death, an' 'ow she stopped that by climbin' up to the bell and 'angin' on to the clapper. Then in came Mortimer an' sang a song with 'er as well 'e might about 'is true love 'avin' 'is 'eart an' 'is 'avin' 'ers, an' everyone clappin' an' stampin' an' ancorein' in the best of tempers.
"I'm just a plain Scotchman, an' no such a fule at climbin' either! Why, man, I've been up Goatfell in Arran, an' Ben Lomond an' Ben Nevis there's a mountain for ye, if ye like! But a brae like this, wi' a' the stanes lyin' helter-skelter, an' crags that ye can barely hold on to and a mad chap guidin' ye on at the speed o' a leapin' goat I tell ye, I havena been used to't."
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