“Two miles,” the doctor answered, “but we can do it all right. You boys have done enough to-day. We are going that way anyhow, and you are going the other.” “Couldn’t we take her to the Madison Hut?” asked Frank. “That would be a great help!” the doctor said. “How would we get her down the mountain from there?” “I hadn’t thought of that,” said Frank. Meanwhile, one of the four men had picked up his pack again and was striding rapidly down the trail toward Clay, headed for Mount Washington and the telephone. The other three trampers, and the man who had been lost with the women, made a new stretcher of their staffs and coats, put the woman on it, and started after him. The Scouts begged to help, but the doctor said no. “Twice a day over the Gulf Side is enough for boys of your age,” he declared. “We can get on all right. You go back to the hut--and take it easy, too.” The man and both the women who had been rescued said goodbye to Peanut, Rob and Art over and over, shaking their hands till the boys grew embarrassed. “Heaven knows what would have become of us if they hadn’t heard our shout!” the uninjured woman exclaimed, again close to tears. “We were lost, and Bessie was hurt, and we’d have perished!” “Not so bad as that,” the doctor said, with a smile, “because the cloud cleared, and you’d have found the path, and we four would have come by just the same.” Peanut’s face clouded. He had thought of himself and his two companions as rescuers, and here the doctor was proving that if they hadn’t done it, somebody else would! The doctor evidently guessed his thoughts, for he added: “That’s not taking away any credit from these Scouts, though. If we hadn’t happened to be headed for Washington you would undoubtedly have been in bad trouble, and if the cloud had lasted longer, you might have been in for a night on the mountain without shelter, and that never did anybody any good. Pretty good work for the boys, I think!” Peanut looked happy again, and the two parties shouted goodbye to each other, as those with the stretcher moved down the trail toward the distant railroad trestle, and the Scouts moved northward, toward the Madison Hut. Then Peanut suddenly realized that he was tired. He was more than tired--he could just about drag one foot after the other. Art was not much fresher, and even Rob said if anybody should ask him to run fifty yards, he’d shoot ’em.