This wood had a very singular appearance. The bark was all off, and the ends of the logs looked rounded and worn, as if they had been washed in the water. The reason was, that the wood had grown on the sides of the mountains, and had been brought down to the lake by the torrents which pour down the mountain sides with great force in time of rain.
"We won't land in the wood yards-will we?" said Rollo.
"No," said Lucia; "but there's a pretty place to land, a little farther on."
So saying, Lucia pointed to a very pretty part of the shore, a little farther on. There seemed to be a garden, and a little green lawn, with large trees overshadowing it; and at one place there was a projecting point where there was a summer house with a table in it, and a seat outside, near the beach, under a bower.
"Yes," said Rollo; "that is a very pretty place; but it looks like private ground. I think we must not land there."
As the boat glided by this place, Rollo and Lucia saw some ladies and gentlemen sitting in the summer house. The gentlemen took off their hats and bowed to Mr. and Mrs. Holiday as they passed by.
Next the boat came to a place where there was a low parapet wall along the shore, and behind it were to be seen the heads of a number of men who seemed to be sitting at tables, and drinking coffee or beer.
"Here is a good place to land," said Lucia.
"No," said Rollo; "this seems to be some sort of public place, full of men. We had better go a little farther."
So Rollo steered on, keeping all the time at just a safe distance from the shore. The water was most beautifully transparent and clear, so that all the pretty stones and pebbles on the bottom could be seen very distinctly at a great depth.
"What pretty water!" said Lucia.
"Yes," said Rollo, "it is so clear."
"What makes it so clear?" asked Lucia.
"Because the lake is so long," said Rollo, "and this is the lower end of it, and the water has time to settle. At the other end, where the water comes in, it is not so clear. This is the end where the water runs out."
A moment afterwards they came to a very pleasant landing, at a place where the road lay pretty near the water. Between the road and the water, however, there was a space of green grass, with large trees overshadowing it, and several wooden settees, painted green, under the trees.
"Ah!" said Rollo, "here is just the place for us.
"Father," he added, "do you think it would be a good plan to land here?"
"Yes," said his father; "we could not have had a better place. I thought you would find a pleasant landing for us if I gave you the command."
So Rollo brought the boat up to the shore, and they all got out. Mr. and Mrs. Holiday walked up and took their seats on one of the settees, while Rollo and Lucia began to run about and play along the parapet wall which separated the promenade from the water.
Mr. and Mrs. Holiday watched the mountains. The sun had now just gone down, though his beams still tipped the summits of the hills, and were reflected from the windows of the distant houses. The snow on the mountains, too, began to assume a very beautiful rosy hue, which increased in brilliancy the farther the sun went down, and the more the lower lands became darkened.
"How beautiful it is!" said Mrs. Holiday.
"It is very beautiful indeed," said her husband.
"Rollo," said Mrs. Holiday, "look at Mont Blanc. See how bright and rosy he looks."
"Yes, mother," said Rollo; "and look out on the lake, and see the heads of those two boys swimming in the water."
"Are those the heads of boys?" asked Mrs. Holiday.
"Yes, mother," said Rollo; "see how far they are swimming out."
When Mrs. Holiday looked back at the mountain, she found, to her great disappointment, that the rosy color which had appeared so beautiful a moment before had now disappeared; and the whole snowy side of the range, up to the summits of the loftiest peaks, was of a cold, dead white, as if the rays of the sun had been entirely withdrawn.
"Ah! look!" she said to Mr. Holiday, in a tone of disappointment; "Mont Blanc has gone out while we have been looking another way."
Mr. Holiday gazed intently at the mountain, and very soon he saw the rosy tint beginning to appear again on one of the summits, more brilliant than ever.
"No," said he, "the sun has not gone. I thought it could not have gone down so soon. There must have been a cloud in the way."
While Mr. Holiday had been speaking, the rekindling of the mountain had gone on apace, and now the whole side of it was all in a glow.
Just at this instant Rollo heard the sound of a gun. Lucia started and looked alarmed.
"What is that gun?" said Rollo; "and where was it? Let us look for the smoke."
So Rollo and Lucia, leaning over the parapet, began to look all about among the boats and vessels of the lake, and along the opposite shore, in the direction from which the sound of the report had seemed to come, and very soon their eyes rested upon a volume of blue smoke which was ascending from the bows of a little vessel that had just come in, and was floating off gracefully into the air.
"It is that vessel that has just got in," said Rollo.
"Rollo," said Mrs. Holiday, "look at the mountain."
Rollo turned his eye for a moment towards the mountain. All the lower part of it was of a cold and deathlike whiteness, while the tip of the summit was glowing as if it had been on fire. He was, however, too much interested in the smoke of the gun to look long at the mountain.
"Hark!" said he to Lucia; "let us see if they will not fire again."
They did not fire again; and just as Rollo began to give up expecting that they would, his attention, as well as that of Lucia, was attracted to a little child who was playing with a small hammer in the gravel not far from where they were standing. The mother of the child was sitting on a bench near by, knitting. The hammer was small, and the claw of it was straight and flat. The child was using it for a hoe, to dig a hole in the gravel.
"Now," said Rollo, "if I could find a shingle any where about here, I would make that child a shovel to dig with."
Rollo looked about, but there was nothing like a shingle to be seen.
In a few minutes his father called him.
"Rollo," said he, "we are going back. Mont Blanc has gone out. See!"
Rollo looked. He saw that the last lingering rays of the sun had gone from the summit of the mountain, though they still gilded a small rounded cloud that floated just above it in the sky.
"Yes, sir," said Rollo. "I'll go and call the boat."
"We are not going back in the boat," said Mr. Holiday; "we have concluded to walk round by land, and over the bridge. It will be better for Lucia to go with us; but you may do as you please. You may walk with us, or go in the boat with the boatman."
Rollo at first thought that he should prefer to go in the boat; but he finally concluded to accompany his father and mother. So the whole party returned together by a pleasant road which led through a village by the shore.
When they came out to the quay they heard a band of music playing. The band was stationed on the little islet which has already been described. The party stopped on the bridge to listen; at least Mr. and Mrs. Holiday listened, but Rollo and Lucia occupied themselves the while in looking down in the clear depths of the water, which was running so swiftly and so blue beneath the piers of the bridge, and watching to see if they could see any fishes there. Lucia thought at one time that she saw one; but Rollo, on examining the spot, said it was only a little crevice of the rock wiggling.
"What makes it wiggle?" asked Lucia.
"The little waves and ripples of the current," said Rollo.
* * * * *
When Rollo reached the hotel, a gentleman who met the party in the hall said to him,-
"Well, Rollo, have you been to see Mont Blanc go out?"
"Yes, sir," said Rollo.
"And how did you like it?" said the gentleman.
"I liked it very much indeed," said Rollo. "I think it was sublime."