The universe was deathly still save for the continual moaning of the wind. There was nothing at all visible, either stars above, or valley lamps below--nothing but a damp, chilly _white darkness_. Lou was silent, awed. The man set his bugle to his lips, and blew--blew the sweet, sad, solemn notes of taps. As they rose above the moaning of the wind and seemed to float off into space, Lou’s heart tingled in his breast. As the last note died sweetly away, there were tears in his eyes--he couldn’t say why. But something about taps always made him sad, and now, in this strange setting up in the clouds, the tears actually came. The man saw, and laid a hand in silence on his shoulder. “You understand,” he said, presently, as they moved back up the road, and that was all he said. Back in the coach house, the proprietor showed them all the available cots up-stairs. There were two shy, so Art and Peanut insisted on sleeping down-stairs by the stove. They wabbed up an extra blanket or two for a bed, made their sweaters into pillows, and almost before the lamp was blown out, they were as fast asleep as if they had been lying on feathers. CHAPTER XII DOWN TUCKERMAN’S RAVINE But while it is comparatively easy to go to sleep on the floor, it is not so easy to stay asleep on it. Both Art and Peanut awoke more than once during the night, and shifted to the other shoulder. Finally, toward morning, Art got up and tiptoed to the window, to look out. He came back and shook Peanut. “Whaz-a-matter?” said Peanut, sleepily. “Get up, and I’ll show you,” Art whispered. Peanut roused himself, and joined Art at the window. Outside the stars were shining! But that was not all. Art pointed down the carriage road, and far below, on the black shadow of the mountain Peanut saw what looked like bobbing stars fallen to the ground. These stars were evidently drawing nearer. “Well, what do you make of that!” he exclaimed. “Bless me if I know. It’s evidently somebody coming up the road with lanterns.” The two boys slipped noiselessly into their shoes, and struck a match to look at their watches. “Quarter to four,” said Art. “The sun will rise in half an hour. Gee, I’d like to get that bugle and wake ’em up!” “The owner’s using it himself, I should say,” whispered Peanut, as the sound of a snore came from the room above. They looked about, but the man had evidently taken his bugle up-stairs with him, so they slipped out through the door to investigate the bobbing lanterns coming up the mountain. It was cold outside, and still dark, but they could make out dimly the track of the carriage road, and walked down it. The lanterns were drawing nearer, and now they could hear voices. A moment later, and they met the lantern bearers, a party of nearly a dozen men and women. “Hello, boys! Where did you drop from?” cried the man in the lead, suddenly spying Art and Peanut. “Where did you come up from?” Peanut replied.