336 THE CAROLINA MOUNTAINS 
as you stand looking over the mountains beyond, a 
heifer, that has long been gazing stolidly at you, 
draws near and licks your hand, probably to find 
out what that motionless figure is really made of. 
There is no mountain whose name you more often 
hear than that of the Roan. And the estimation in 
which the people hold this great bald was shown one 
day when a stranger, seeking to entertain a moun- 
tain woman, told her about Italy with its Vesuvius, 
its great churches, and its people with their strange 
customs. When the story was done, the woman 
looked intently at the narrator and then asked 
critically, "Have you-all been to Roan Mountain?" 
Being answered in the negative, she added, some- 
what condescendingly, "Well, if you want to travel 
and see something, you ought to go to Roan Moun- 
tain." 
From the summit of the Roan you can continue 
on and down the north side to the Roan Mountain 
Station on the railroad, or you can follow the long 
trail over Grassy Ridge Bald, along the side of the 
Big Yellow and Hump Mountains down to Elk Park, 
where you can take the train by way of Cranberry 
and its famous iron mines to the Linville Country. 
On a fair day the long walk over the trail is the better 
choice, but you will have to take a guide, though 
one remembers sitting down on a mountain-top 
where two paths crossed, and studying out the situ- 
ation on the government map while the mountain 
woman who had come to show the way looked on. 
Of course we were not lost, nobody ever is, the 
