She was a robber baroness; she dwelt in a rocky "fastness"-- whatever that was--surrounded by a crew of outlaws as desperate as any that ever drew cutlass and dagger, and she ruled them not only by native strength of character, but also by the aid of other forces, for she was on friendly terms with the more prominent wood sprites, fairies, and the like, and they brought her wisdom.
Moreover, she had learned the language of dumb animals and could talk to squirrels, beetles, porcupines, frogs.
All this, as may be surmised, had come about as the result of Ma's early reading: a haphazard choice of story books, in which were tales of treasure trove, of pirates, of wronged maidens and gallant squires--romantic stories peculiarly designed to stir a cramped imagination like hers.

It was from them that she had gained her ideas of the world, her notions of manners, even her love of the mountains, and that unquenchable desire to see them that she had confided to Calvin Gray.
He it was, by the way, who had selected the Notch for these Texas nesters.

It had proved a happy choice, for the hotel sat upon the top of the world, and beneath it lay outspread the whole green and purple vastness of the earth.

The Briskows were entranced, of course, and, once they had established themselves here, they never thought of moving, nor did it occur to them that there might--be other mountains than these, other hotels as good as this.

To them Burlington Notch became merely a colloquial name for Paradise, and life in the great hotel itself a beautiful dream.
The place was famous the country over as a health resort, and, indeed, it must have possessed miraculous curative properties, otherwise Gus Briskow, strong and vigorous as he was, could never have survived the shock of receiving his first week's bill.