"I'm going to eat my sandwiches here; I'm fagged out," declared Gipsy, sitting down on a stone and suddenly realizing that she was tired and hungry. The others followed suit, very ready for a rest and a picnic. It was a long time since their lunch at the inn, and the frosty air had given them keen appetites. It was too cold to sit still, however, for more than five or ten minutes; a bitter wind had sprung up, and the snow, which had only fallen very lightly before, began to come down in thicker and heavier flakes. "We'd better be going, or we shan't be able to find our way," worried Meg anxiously. "Right-o! only we must each add a stone to the cairn first," replied Donald. "I've a pencil here, and we'll write our names on them as proof conclusive that we've been, in case anybody doubts our word afterwards." So "Gipsy Latimer", "Margaret Gordon", and "Donald Alexander Gordon" were duly inscribed on smooth pieces of shale and placed as evidence on the top of the pile, after which ceremony the three began their descent with something of the feeling of Arctic explorers who had reached the Pole. It was indeed high time to return. Clouds were blowing up fast, and with the thickening snow began rapidly to obscure the view. The trio went very cautiously, trying to remember various landmarks which they had noticed on the way up. Gipsy's idea of retracing their footsteps in the snow soon proved futile, for already all tracks were obliterated. It was impossible to see far in front of them, and but for the compass that hung on Donald's watch-chain they would have had no notion of where they were going. "We must keep due west, and look out sharp for precipices. Don't let us get separated on any account. Hadn't we better use the rope again?" "I don't believe we're anywhere near the way we came up. I don't recognize these rocks in the least," said Meg. "Never mind, if we get down somewhere to civilization," returned Gipsy. "Yes, but we don't want to be five miles away from our bicycles!" "We're all right!" exclaimed Donald jubilantly. "Here's the piece of white quartz we were sitting on, I'm sure. Yes!" (grubbing about under the snow) "I'm right, for here's a scrap of the silver paper from the chocolate we were eating. Hurrah! I'm going to set up for an Alpine guide!" The snow was clearing considerably as they got farther down the mountainside, and after a while they were able to recognize various points of the landscape, and realized that Donald's compass and instinct for locality had led them correctly. "It was a narrow squeak, though," confessed Meg. "I don't mind telling you now that I thought we should have to stay up there all night! It's getting fearfully late--we must sprint back when we reach our machines." "We'll have some hot tea at the inn first," declared Donald. "You girls will never sprint six miles without!"