UP STERLING 



IT was six o'clock of a clear October 

 morning, succeeding three days of rain, 

 when I set forth, "as the crow flies," for 

 Sterling Mountain. I had long planned 

 making a direct assault upon the giant, 

 instead of going six miles around by way 

 of "White Rocks" for the benefit of a doubt- 

 ful trail. The thickly wooded mountain 

 towered before me, seemingly less than 

 three miles away, on the other side of the 

 narrow valley. I thought I could easily 

 make the base of it in an hour, or an hour 

 and a half at the longest. But I failed to 

 take into my reckoning the deceptiveness 

 of distance when one is looking across coun- 

 try to the hills. Especially on a clear day 

 the mountains look as if you could touch 

 them, if your arm were only a little 

 longer. You laugh at the notion of spend- 

 ing all day in making a trip by carriage to 

 this or that locally famous hill. You think 

 you could do it, afoot, between supper and 

 170 



