“You’re like the man on Moosilauke,” said Lou. “I’m like all true mountaineers,” he answered. “And Scouts,” said Peanut. Rob had now finished a brief account of their adventure on the Crawford Bridle Path, and the proprietor went up-stairs to find out the name of the man they had rescued. The girl’s name they already knew. “Don’t say we rescued them, Rob,” Mr. Rogers cautioned. “Say they overtook us at Monroe, and we all went on together, because we had blankets and provisions.” “That’s what I have _said_,” laughed Rob. “But it doesn’t alter the facts.” The proprietor came back with the name, and Rob added to the man with the bugle, “And the names of your party, too?” “Say five trampers,” the other answered. “I’ll tell you our names later. We aren’t essential to the story.” “But I would like to know why you have the bugle,” said Rob. “I’ll tell you that later, also,” the man laughed. Rob turned his little account over to the proprietor, and the party left the warm house, and went out again into the cloud and the chilling wind. It was almost like stepping out upon the deck of a ship in a heavy fog. They could see the board walk ahead, as far as the railroad platform--and that was all. The rest of the world was blotted out. The wind was wailing in the telephone wires and through the beams of the railroad trestle, just as it wails through the rigging of a ship. It was getting dark, too. The boys shivered, and nobody suggested any exploring. “Me for supper, and bunk,” said Peanut. They crossed the railroad with its cog rail between the two wheel rails, and descended a long flight of steps. At the bottom was the end of the carriage road, which they could see disappearing into the cloud to the east, a barn on the left, chained down to the rocks, and on the right a square, two-story building, the carriage house. Inside, a lamp was already lighted, and the four men who had come down the mountain with the bugler, as well as the evident proprietor of the house, were sitting about the stove, which was crammed with wood and roaring hotly. “Well?” said the four, as the Scouts and the bugler entered. “Any more people to go down and rescue?” The bugler shook his head. “Haven’t heard of any,” he said. “There’s no word of any one else trying the Crawford Path to-day. Anybody that tackled Tuckerman’s will certainly have had sense enough to stay in the camp. That party who came over the Gulf Side this morning with us decided to go down the carriage road, they tell me. I guess we’ve got this place to ourselves.” “Oh, it’s a good, soft floor,” one of the men laughed. “You boys don’t mind a good, soft floor, do you?” “Not a bit,” said Peanut. “I always sleep on the floor--prefer it, in fact.” The others laughed, and the Scouts got off their packs, spread their blankets out to dry, and took off their sweaters.