They climbed some distance through birch trees up the steep western wall of the Notch before reaching the railroad. Once upon it, they saw the great gap in the hills to far better advantage, however, than from the road below. Willey shot up directly over their heads, as steep a long climb, probably, as there is anywhere east of the Rocky Mountains. The Scouts came very near deciding to give up a day from Washington, and tackle it. Directly across the Notch they could see the whole long, beetling brow of Webster. “It kind of looks like the pictures of Daniel,” said Peanut. “Stern and frowning.” “And the slides are the furrows in his forehead,” laughed Rob. But it was looking north that the view was most impressive. The railroad hung dizzily on the side wall, with the rocks apparently tumbling upon it from the left, and it about to tumble down the rocks to the right. It curved eastward a mile or two ahead, and at the bend, facing down the Notch, was the precipitous southern wall of Mount Willard, almost a sheer rock cliff a thousand feet high. As the party walked up the track, the cliff grew nearer and nearer, and as the daylight faded in this deep ravine, it seemed more and more not to be straight up, but to be hanging forward, as if ready to fall on top of them. “I’d hate to be in here during a thunder-storm,” said Lou. “It’s--it’s kind of terrible!” They came through the gate of the Notch at six o’clock, and there was the Crawford House in daylight, and above it, on the slope of Clinton, were the rays of the sun! “Good little old sun,” said Peanut. “Wow! I’d hate to live where it set every day at four o’clock.” They now hurried up the Bridle Path to their camp, and Peanut tied the flag to a tree, in honor of the first camp on the Washington trail, while the others began preparations for supper or cut boughs for the night. When the supper dishes were cleared away, they heard a faint sound of music coming up to them from below. Peanut pricked up his ears. “Concert at the Crawford House!” he said. “Let’s go down and hear it.” “It sounds pretty nice right here,” said Mr. Rogers. “Aw, come on!” Peanut urged. “We can get post-cards there, too, I guess. Art wants to send one to his Pinkie.” “Shut up!” said Art. “What you really mean is that you want to get some candy.” “No, I don’t. I got some left from this afternoon.” “You have!” said Frank. “You old tightwad! Why don’t you pass it around?” “’Cause I sat on it by mistake,” Peanut answered. “Come on down to the hotel.” “Maybe we’d better,” Rob put in. “We can all send a card home to our folks.” “Not forgetting Pinkie,” said Peanut to Art, as he ducked down the path, stumbling in the dark. Lou took the lantern, and tied his handkerchief to a bough over the entrance to the camp. The rest waited till this was done, and followed behind him. They didn’t catch Peanut till the very bottom.