“Gee, I’d like to--but I’m full,” said Peanut, so honestly that everybody roared. “I don’t suppose you carry an ice-cream freezer in your packs, do you?” Mrs. Goodwin laughed. “We don’t,” said Rob, “nor grape fruit nor napkins, either. I’m afraid this luxury will spoil us for camp to-morrow!” “Do you know,” Mr. Goodwin said, “I’m tired of luxury, myself. If I was twenty years younger, I’d get a blanket out and go with you boys for the next few days, and eat bacon and flapjacks out of tin plates, and have the time of my life.” “Come on!” the Scouts cried. And Peanut added, “You ain’t old. Why, Edward Payson Weston’s lots older than you are!” “And he walked from San Francisco to New York didn’t he?” Mr. Goodwin laughed. “Well, I guess his legs are younger than mine. Where do you go to-morrow, by the way?” This reminded Mr. Rogers of the book, so he asked if he could lend him a copy of Hawthorne’s “Twice Told Tales.” “If you can,” he said, “we are going up Cannon to-morrow morning and read ‘The Great Stone Face,’ and then go over to the Crawford House on the train, to be ready for the Bridle Path the next day.” “Have we got it--the book?” Mr. Goodwin asked his wife. She shook her head, but the daughter spoke--“The Andersons have a copy, I know. I’ll run over and get it after dinner.” “Fine--and as to that train--nothing doing,” said Mr. Goodwin. “You’ll all get in my touring car after lunch, and the driver’ll take you over to Crawford’s, and show you some sights on the way. I’ll tell him to take you through Bethlehem first. Now, don’t say no! I want to do that much for you.” The Scouts thanked him, and agreed to be ready at two o’clock, on the next day, for the start. They rose from dinner now, and strolled out-of-doors. There was music at the Profile House. The entire party loitered along the board walk in front of the cottages, with the great, dark wall of Lafayette going up against the stars directly across the road, and sat on the Profile House veranda a while, listening to the music within. Dancers came out and walked back and forth in front of them between dances--men in evening clothes, girls in low-necked white dresses. It was very gay. But how sleepy the Scouts were becoming! Mr. Rogers saw it, and whispered to their hostess. They walked back to the house, got the book, said good-night, and once more tramped down the road. “Gee, it’s ten o’clock,” said Art. “Awful dissipated, we are.” Peanut yawned. “Bet I’ll hate to get up to-morrow. Wow, some class to that dinner, though! Ain’t you glad we were heroes, boys?” Lou was lighting his lantern. “I’m glad you picked out Mr. Goodwin to warn,” he laughed. They were alongside of Echo Lake now. “If I wasn’t so sleepy, I’d like to go down there and make an echo now, in the night,” said Lou. “It would be kind of wild and unearthly.” “Yes, and easy to do, seeing’s we have no bugle and no boat,” said Frank. “Me for bed.”