“Yes, we’ve got to hike right along,” agreed Janus.  “Hook up those nags and be on the way, Jim,” he added, speaking to the driver.

It was only a short time until they were on the way again.  The country was becoming more sparsely settled, the hills more rugged and the forests more numerous.  Here and there slabs of granite might be seen cropping up through the soil; in the distance, now and then, they were able to catch glimpses of the bare ridges of the mountains toward which they were journeying.

“Those mountains,” explained the guide, “are called ’The Roof of New England.’  There’s not much of any timber on top, but on the sides you will find some spruce, yellow pine and hemlock.  It’s all granite a little way under the subsoil; and over the subsoil grows moss.  Among these mosses and the roots of the trees almost every important stream in New England takes its rise, and some of them grow to be quite decent rivers.  You ladies live in this state, don’t you?”

Miss Elting nodded.

“I am afraid we never realized what a beautiful state New Hampshire is until we began looking about a little,” answered Harriet Burrell.

“There are too many thtoneth,” objected Tommy.  “I thhall be afraid of thtubbing my toeth all the time.”

“Lift your feet and you won’t,” suggested Margaret, with a smile.

“Buthter, I didn’t athk for your advithe,” retorted Tommy.

“There are the foothills,” interrupted the guide, “and there is Chocorua.  Isn’t she a beauty?”

This was the girls’ first real glimpse of the White Mountains.  Chocorua loomed high in the air, reminding them of pictures they had seen of ancient temples, except that this was higher than any temple they had ever seen pictured.  Its gray domes, flanked by the other tops of the neighboring range, stood out clearly defined.

“Three thousand five hundred feet above sea level,” the guide informed them, waving a hand toward Chocorua.  “Doesn’t look that high, does it?”

“Have we got to climb up there?” questioned Margery.

“We are going to.  We do not have to if we don’t want to,” replied Hazel.

“Oh, dear, I’m too tired to go on,” whined Margery.

“I knew Buthter could never climb a mountain,” observed Tommy, with a hopeless shake of her little tow-head.  “But never mind, Buthter, you can thtay here and wait until we come back.  It will only be a few weekth and you won’t be tho very lonely.  Of courthe, you will mith me a great deal.”

“Don’t worry yourself over me,” snapped, Buster.  “I can climb as well as you.  But if I did stay behind, you can make up your mind I wouldn’t miss you.”

“Stop squabbling, girls,” laughed Harriet.  “Neither one of you could get along without the other.”