The five miles to North Woodstock were quickly made--rather too quickly, perhaps, to please the Scouts. They were having a good time. They stopped for a few minutes only to look at Agassiz Basin, where Lost River makes some lovely bathing pools on the rocky ledges. The Greens, of course, invited them into their hotel for supper, but Mr. Rogers shook his head. “No,” said he, “we’ve got to get along up the Notch yet, and be ready for the climb over Liberty and Lafayette to-morrow. I’m afraid we’ve got to be on our way.” The girls gathered around Frank. One of them wrote an address on a card, and gave it to him. “Now, promise,” they said, “you’ve got to send us all one of those horrid pictures.” “If they’re so horrid, I shouldn’t think you’d want ’em,” said Frank. “Well, you send ’em just the same,” they answered. Everybody shook hands all around, and Alice, as she released Peanut’s hand, managed to slap his face lightly, and ran laughing up the steps. The Scouts tramped away into the village, while the girls waved their handkerchiefs from the porch. “Yes, Art,” Peanut said, “girls _are_ a pesky nuisance. They look so ugly in pink dresses.” “Oh, shut up on that!” Art cried. “You’ve got a ducking coming to you in the next brook. Anyhow, _mine_ wasn’t a face-slapping tomboy!” “No, she was just _too_ sweet,” laughed Peanut, as he dodged Art’s swing at his head. At the village they stocked up on provisions--bacon, condensed milk, tea and coffee, flour and sweet chocolate--for their provisions were well used up, and soon they were plodding up the road, northward, and entering the Franconia Notch. The road was quite unlike that down which they had tramped two days before, on the west side of Kinsman. It was macadamized and full of motors. “This is one of the through highways from the south to the northern side of the mountains,” said the Scout Master. “I fear we’ve hit it at about the worst time of day, too, because we’re only twelve miles from the Profile House, which is the end of the day’s run for many cars. Most of ’em seem to be going in that direction.” “I should think they were,” said Rob. “My blanket is covered with dust already.” “Gosh, my _lungs_ are covered with dust,” said Peanut. “How far have we got to go, dodging these things?” “Only six miles,” the Scout Master answered. “I guess we can stand it that long.” It was getting on toward dark in the Notch (where the sun seems to set much earlier than outside, because of the high western wall) when they reached the Flume House. “It’s too dark to go up into the Flume to camp to-night,” Mr. Rogers declared. “Besides, I don’t know just where the path up Liberty starts, and we’d better wait for daylight to ask. We’ll go up the road a few rods, and camp by some brook close to the road. Then in the morning we can see the Flume and the Basin and all the sights.”