It was far away and misty, a thing of beauty which seemed to hang in the air above the clouds.
"Orizaba, the great mountain!" said Almonte.
Ned had seen Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl, but this was a shade loftier and more beautiful than either, shooting up nearly four miles, and visible to sailors far out at sea.

It grew in splendor as they approached.

Great masses of oak and pine hung on its lofty sides, up the height of three miles, and above the forest rose the sharp cone, gleaming white with snow.

The face of Juan Nepomuceno Almonte flushed as he gazed at it.
"It is ours, the great mountain!" he exclaimed.

"And the many other magnificent mountains and the valleys and rivers of Mexico.