“That was easy,” he said. “I’m like the old geezer on Moosilauke--got a sixth sense in the soles of my feet. Besides, if you get off the path, you bump into a tree, which knocks you back in.” The brightly lighted windows of the Crawford House were open, and the sound of the orchestra was floating out. Many people were walking up and down on the veranda. They were all dressed elaborately, many of the men in evening clothes. The little party of five boys and a man, in flannel shirts and khaki, attracted much attention as they entered the lobby of the hotel. “Gee,” Art whispered, “think of coming to the mountains for a vacation, and having to doll all up in your best rags! That’s not my idea of fun.” “It’s my idea of the ultimate zero in sport,” laughed Rob. Peanut had at once found the post-card stand, and was offering Art a “pretty picture for Pinkie” as the latter came up. “All right!” Art laughed. “I’ll send it!” But he wouldn’t let anybody else see what he wrote. The others all sent cards home, and, not to be outdone by Art, they sent cards also to the girls they had met in Lost River. Peanut found a picture of the top of Mount Washington to send to Alice, and he carefully drew a picture of himself upon the topmost rock, like this: [Illustration] On the other side he wrote, “The persevering Peanut on the Peak.” “Guess that’s some alliteration!” he said. “Mr. Rogers, what painter’s name began with P?” “Perugino,” said the Scout Master. “Do you mind spelling it--slowly?” Mr. Rogers spelled it, and Peanut added on the card--“Painted by Perugino.” “Guess that’ll hold her royal highness for a while!” he laughed. Then he bought a stamp, and triumphantly dropped the post-card in the letter box. The boys sat on the veranda for a while, listening to the music, until Rob and Mr. Rogers noticed that Art’s eyes were closed, and Peanut’s head bobbed down upon his chest every few minutes, and Frank and Lou were yawning. “Bunk!” said Rob. Lou relit the lantern, and they climbed back up the path to camp. “We are on the way up Washington at last,” said the Scout Master as they were rolling up in their blankets. “At this time to-morrow, we’ll be asleep on the highest point east of the Rockies, and north of Virginia.” “Hooray,” said Peanut. “Let Per--Per--Perugino know, please.” CHAPTER X A FIGHT WITH THE STORM ON THE CRAWFORD BRIDLE PATH The morning dawned cold, with a north wind, and the Scouts woke up shivering. As they were in the woods on the west slope of a mountain, it would be some time before they could see the sun, but so far as they could get a glimpse through the trees to the west and north, the day promised well for the ascent of Washington. “Looks clear,” said Art. “I wonder if old Washington has got a cloud cap on?” “We’ll know before very long,” said the Scout Master. “Even if it has, I don’t think we’ve got much kick coming. Here we’ve been out in the open since the night before the Fourth, and not a bad day yet.”