Boy Scouts in the White Mountains: The Story of a Long HikeEaton, Walter Prichard
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Boy Scouts in the White Mountains: The Story of a Long Hike
Eaton, Walter Prichard
Boy Scouts -- Juvenile fiction; Hiking -- Juvenile fiction; White Mountains (N.H. and Me.) -- Juvenile fiction
Then she rose to her feet, and stamped around a bit on her lame ankle,
to keep it from getting stiffened up too much, and to warm her blood,
besides.
“I’d like to know what the thermometer is,” said Frank. “Must be below
freezing, that’s sure.”
Rob was looking out of the window. “I’m not so sure,” he answered. “It
has stopped snowing now. Say! I believe it’s getting lighter!”
He opened the door and slipped out of the hut into the cloud. A moment
later he came back.
“The north is surely breaking!” he cried. “This cloud bank hasn’t got
far over the range. The north wind has fought it back. While I was
watching, the wind seemed to tear a kind of hole in the cloud, and I
saw a bit of the valley for a second. Come on out and watch!”
All the Scouts went outside, leaving the couple alone within. As soon
as they got free of the lee side of the shelter, the gale hit them full
force, the cloud condensing on their blankets, which they had hard
work to keep wrapped about them. But the sight well repaid the effort.
The wind was playing a mad game with the vapors on the whole north
side of the range. The great cloud mass below them was thinner than
it had been. They could see for several hundred feet along the bare
or snow-and-ice capped rocks, which looked wild and desolate beyond
description. Farther away, where the rocks were swallowed up in the
mists, was a seething caldron of clouds, driven in wreaths and spirals
by the wind. Suddenly a lane would open between them, and the rocks
would be exposed far down the mountain. As suddenly the lane would
close up again. Then it would once more open, perhaps so wide and far
that a glimpse of green valley far below would come for a second into
view. Once the top of Mount Dartmouth was visible for a full minute.
Still later, looking northeast, the great northern shoulder of Mount
Clay appeared.
“The clouds are not far down on the north side of the range, that’s a
fact,” said Mr. Rogers. “With this north wind still blowing we may get
it clear enough to tackle the peak yet. But we don’t want to stand out
here in the cold too long.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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