Once on the grass, in the chill, dark air, depression fell upon them a second time. Their thoughts returned to the snug beds they had left. Even Brinkman and Clapperton could not take it out of them more than this white frost and nipping air. However, the bell began to toll six; and the thought of their companions in discomfort spurred them on to energy. They crawled across the Green to Wakefield's. Four ghostly figures were visible in the feeble dawn, hovering under the wall. "Got the grub?" It was the cheery voice of Wally Wheatfield, at sound of which the pilgrims took comfort, and were glad they had turned out after all. The first thing was to get clear of Fellsgarth, which was easily accomplished, as no one was about. Even had they been observed, beyond the general wonder of seeing nine juniors taking a morning walk at 6 a.m., there was nothing to interfere with their liberty. As soon as they got into Shargle Woods a brief council of war was held. "It's a jolly stiff climb," said Wally. "I've got a compass," said Ashby, as if that disposed of the difficulty. Ashby had an ulster, which just then seemed to some of his comrades a still more enviable possession. "How many miles?" asked Lickford. "Miles? Who ever reckoned mountains by miles? It's three hours to the top." "That'll be nine o'clock," wisely observed Cash. "Who knows the way up?" Percy asked. "Way up? Can't you see it?" said Wally. "When you get to the bottom, you go straight up." "All very well for you. I can't walk up a perpendicular cliff. I dare say I could come straight down if I tried," submitted Percy. "Oh, there are lots of paths. It's as easy as pot," said Wally. "Suppose we have a bit of grub now. It'll be less to carry, you know." Whereupon an attack was made on the provisions, with the result that considerably less was left to carry up. The meal ended, a start was made in earnest, and the party trailed down the valley towards the lake at an easy jog-trot, and came to the conclusion that ascending a pike was ridiculously simple work. By the time they reached the lake, and began to strike up the winding lane that led round to the rearward slopes of the great mountain, an hour had passed. "Nearly half-way there," said Fisher minor, hoping some one would corroborate the statement. "Oh, we don't count that bit we've come anything," said Wally. "We're just starting up now." "Oh," said Fisher, again hoping to be confirmed. "Then it's only two hours' climb?" "That's all you know about it. Wisdom used to say he could do it in three hours from the lake-side. But he was a wonner to go. Come along; wire in, you chaps." "Where did Wisdom get killed?" asked Percy, by way of a little genial conversation. "I heard over the other side, down the cliffs above the lake. He got caught in a mist and lost his way." "How do you know this is the right way up?" asked Cottle. "Because it's as plain as the nose on your face," retorted the guide.