was one of Egyptian darkness but eastward, up the mountain side and nearly to the summit, a bright light, like the flame of a candle, burned steadily. To assure himself that it was no illusion or trick of the imagination, he watched it carefully for several minutes. "What can it be?" he thought. There was no possibility of reflection and no smoke. "Perhaps a belated prospecting party or a signal of distress," he reasoned, at the same time opening the window.
"What now!" called Mr. Genung, stepping beside his nephew.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed, with a hasty glance at his watch. "The 'light' and 'twelve o'clock!' Is it seven years?"
Simultaneously all rushed forward. Steadily burned the flame while its observers remained mute.
"Well, what is it?" Hernando asked with impatience.
"The 'light,'" his uncle replied excitedly.
"Great Heavens! what light? Are you mad?"
"To be sure, I beg your pardon, Hernando,"
