"There's a tuck shop on the top of it--there's none here." "That chap was right," said Magnus.

"That must be Snowdon over there-- we've missed him." "Horrid bore," said Joe, who, however, regretted the mountain less than the tuck shop.
The afternoon was changing.

The clouds were beginning to sweep up from the other side and begriming the sky which had been so ruthlessly clear all the morning.
All of a sudden the mist below them parted, and disclosed through a frame of cloud a great cauldron of rock yawning at their feet, at the bottom of which--as it seemed, miles below--lay a black lake.

It was a scene Dante could have described better than I.
"If we could get down there we could have a tub," said Magnus.
"It's snug enough up here," replied the poet; "don't you think so ?" Magnus admitted it was snug, and did not press his motion.

For, though he scorned to say so, he was fagged, and felt he could do with a half- hour's lounge before undertaking a new venture.
So the reconciled friends took their siesta on the top of the mysterious mountain, and, in doing so, oddly enough fell asleep.
Sub-Chapter II.
THE IMMORTALS.
When they woke, the sun was still shining; but it had got round to the side of them which, when they dropped off, had been wrapped in cloud, while the mist had taken possession of the valley and hillside by which they had ascended.
The transformation scene was so complete that had they not seen Joe's paper on the ground beside them, and recognised the bank of heather against which they reclined, they would have found it difficult to say exactly where they were.
To all appearances they were at the end of the world.