“That’s because you got it so wet yesterday,” said Rob. “For heaven’s sake, take your clothes off before you go in to-day!” Everybody turned from the road to the brook, which was almost a small river. It came down from the sides of Moosilauke, and evidently joined the Wild Ammonoosuc near the dam. In a moment five boys and a man were sticking their toes into it gingerly, and withdrawing them with various “Ouches!” and “Wows!” “Cowards!” cried Art. “Here goes. What’s cold water?” He selected a pool between two big stones, and went all under. The rest followed suit. There was no place deep enough to swim in, however, and they all very soon came out, and dried themselves on the bank. “My, that makes you feel better, though!” Frank exclaimed. “Nothing like a bath on a hike to set you up!” “I got a blister,” said Peanut, who was examining his heel. “Oh, dear, who’s got the first aid kit?” Rob had it, of course, as he was always the doctor. He put some antiseptic on the blister, which had burst, dressed it, and bound it firmly across with surgeon’s plaster, so the shoe could not rub it. “You wouldn’t have had it if you hadn’t got your feet so wet yesterday,” he said. “The leather dried stiff. Perhaps you’ll behave now.” “Yes, doctor, what is your fee?” Peanut grinned. The other five pairs of feet were all right, and the march was resumed. At noon they emerged out of the woods into a small clearing on the west side of Moosilauke. There was a tiny hotel in this clearing, and nothing else. On the right, a second, but much lower mountain, Mount Clough, went sharply up. Due south was a deep gap, like a V, between Clough and Moosilauke--the notch which led to the towns south. “Here’s where the path begins,” said the Scout Master. “We’ve done fourteen miles, at least, this morning. I guess we’ll have lunch.” “Let’s get up into the woods first, by a spring,” the boys urged, so they entered on the path, which immediately began to go up at a steepish angle through a forest of hard wood--a very ancient forest. “Looks as if it had never been lumbered,” said Art. “Wow! look at the size of those maples and beeches!” “The paper men don’t want hard wood, thank goodness,” Mr. Rogers answered. “We’ll get about a mile of this.” They soon found a spring beside the path, and under the shadows of the great trees they made a fire and cooked lunch. Then, for an hour, everybody rested, lying on his back and listening to the beautiful songs of the hermit thrushes. Peanut and Art and Frank went to sleep, while Lou and Rob and Mr. Rogers talked softly. It was a lazy, peaceful hour, up there in the great forest. At two o’clock Rob beat a tattoo on his frying-pan, to wake up the sleepers, and ordered the march to begin.