“I was thinking,” Lou answered, “that I was never so near the stars before. I suppose four thousand feet isn’t much in a billion miles, but somehow they _look_ bigger, and I can almost feel the earth rolling over under ’em. It’s the funniest sensation I ever had.” “You’re a poet, Lou,” said the Scout Master kindly, as he turned to call the rest to bed. “All hands to bunk!” he shouted. “We’ve had a hard day, with a harder one ahead.” The Scouts got off their boots and rolled up in their blankets, all of them glad of the chance. Lou blew out the lantern, and turned in, also. The wind which rushed steadily overhead, with a moaning sound, did not reach them down here to leeward of the peak, amid the thick spruces. But it was cold, nonetheless. They lay close together, and drew their blankets tight. “A funny Fourth,” said Peanut sleepily. “Hope we don’t roll off in our sleep. Good-night, everybody.” But there was no reply. Every one else was asleep. CHAPTER IV MOOSILAUKE Everybody was awake early the next morning. “Gosh, I didn’t sleep very well!” said Peanut, shivering as he built up the fire. “Here it is the fifth of July, and me wrapped up in an army blanket, with a sweater on--and cold. Kept waking up, and getting closer to Art. He’s kind o’ fat and makes a good stove.” “Should think you did!” said Art. “You woke me up about forty-’leven times bumping your back into mine. I wasn’t very cold. Been warmer, though.” “If it’s cold here,” put in Rob, “at four thousand feet, what’ll it be on Washington at six thousand?” “I guess we’ll sleep inside on Washington,” said Mr. Rogers. “Oh, no!” cried Art. “Well, you can bunk outside, and the rest of us’ll go in,” laughed Frank. “Look, there’s the sun!” Sure enough, in the east, across the white cloud which hung below them in the Notch, and beyond the wall of the Lafayette range, a great red ball was rising. It seemed to heave up above the mists as though somebody was pushing it from underneath, and as it got up and cast its rays across the Notch to their feet, Lafayette looked like a huge island of rock above a white sea of vapor. This vapor rolled up and blew away as they were eating breakfast. The morning was fine and clear. Mr. Rogers pointed toward Moosilauke. “That’s where we’ll be at night,” he said. “It doesn’t look possible!” said Lou. “It won’t be, if we don’t start,” said Art. “Got your flag, Peanut, or did you leave it on the south peak?” “I got it, all right,” Peanut replied. “Are we ready? How far is it, Mr. Rogers?” “Hm--four miles down this mountain,--ten to the base of Moosilauke--five miles up--nineteen miles.” “A pickle,” said Peanut, and pack on back he plunged over the summit, and down the path into the spruces, the rest trailing behind. “Go after him, Rob,” said the Scout Master, “and hold him back. He’ll tire his front leg muscles all out, if he doesn’t break his neck.” Rob went, and held Peanut by main force till the rest came up.