The last of the powdered eggs, spinach soaked and boiled as long as they dared wait, till it wasn’t too tough to eat, the last of the bacon from Lou’s and Mr. Rogers’ packs, a single small flapjack apiece, a quarter cake of sweet chocolate for each, and tea, completed the repast. After it was over, they carefully burned all the wrapping paper and Art blazed a tree and printed on the fresh wood, “Farewell Camp,” and the date. Then under it they all wrote their names. It was less than two miles from this point out to the railroad and for the first time in many days they were walking on almost level ground. Before long, the woods opened, and they came out on the meadows of Randolph. Across a field in front of them lay the railroad track and the tiny station. They dropped packs on the platform and turned to look at the mountains. Only the north peaks were visible--Madison, Adams and Jefferson--three pyramids against the sky. “Golly, how funny it feels to be down on the level again!” said Peanut. “And how far away they look! Think, we were up there only this morning!” said Frank. “And how small our hills will look when we get home,” said Lou. “Well, anyhow,” put in Art, “cheer up and think how good some of mother’s pies will taste.” “There’s something in that,” laughed Rob and Mr. Rogers. The train soon came, and carried them by a roundabout route to Fabyans, where they had to change to the night train down the Connecticut valley. At Fabyans, where the big Fabyan Hotel sits beside the railroad, they bought some more souvenir post-cards and Peanut got a pound of very sticky candy which Mr. Rogers said would spoil his supper, whereat he answered, “Wait and see!” They could see from here the whole south range, culminating in the peak of Washington, and thus could follow their adventurous climb over the Crawford Bridle Path. Again, the peaks seemed very far off, and Lou said it was like a dream to think that they had been walking way up there only a few days before. Once aboard the train, they secured berths for the night, and began to think of supper. Mr. Rogers was true to his word--and so was Peanut. He provided--and Peanut ate. “What’s a pound of candy to an empty tum?” said Peanut. “Besides, Frank and Art ate most of it.” They had a last faint glimpse of Lafayette against the twilight at Bethlehem junction, and then the train moved on through the darkness. “Well, it’s goodbye mountains,” said Rob. “Let’s fix up our mileage.” Each Scout got out his precious staff, battered now, with the end pounded into a mushroom by the hard usage on the rocks, and cut the mileage for the day--five miles was all they could make it, even with the trip up the Madison cone included. “Disgraceful!” said Peanut. “Five miles! Bah!” “But the day before is _fair_,” said Art, “considering the Six Husbands’!”