The granite domes soon faded in the waning light.  The driver urged on his horses.  The carry-all bumped over the uneven road, swaying giddily from side to side, the girls clinging tightly to the sides of the wagon, fearing that they might be thrown out.  Darkness shut out pretty much everything at an early hour.  Janus decided that they had better wait for supper till they reached the “Shelter,” a cabin part way up the side of the mountain, where tourists halted for a rest or to stay over night when intending to climb the mountain.  It was not expected that there would be any save themselves there on this occasion.

The road grew so uneven that the driver became a little uneasy.  He finally declared that he did not dare to try following the trail up to the Shelter that night; that either he would put them down at the foot of the mountain or make camp there until the following morning, when he would continue the journey up the mountain to the shelter.

Janus consulted with Miss Elting.  He said they could walk to the Shelter in a couple of hours, provided the girls were hard enough to stand the climb.  The guardian assured him that they were equal to anything in the walking line.  It was, therefore, settled that the driver should take them to the foot of the mountain, whence they would make their way on foot to the stopping place for the night, thus beginning their tramp at the base of the mountain.

“How much farther have we to go?” questioned Harriet.

“A mile farther on we pass over a long, covered bridge.  The road takes a sharp bend beyond that.  The foot of the mountain lies less than a mile from the end of the bridge.  We shall soon be there,” answered Janus.  The girls burst forth into song.  Janus had to shout to make himself heard when he spoke to the driver.  The horses were traveling at a lively pace.  They did not enjoy the disturbance behind them, and their driver, having wrapped the reins about his arms to give him greater purchase, was pulling sturdily, his feet braced against the dashboard of the carry-all.

“Here’s the bridge,” cried the guide.

A lantern had been lighted and hung from the rear axle of the carry-all.  But this did little more than cast weird, flickering shadows ahead.  It certainly did not light up the road ahead of there.  In the dense darkness the bridge was not visible to the eyes of the Meadow-Brook Girls.

“The bridge ith coming.  Low bridge!” piped Tommy.

“Be quiet; I fear we are making the driver’s work difficult,” warned Miss Elting.

“Oh, but isn’t this the fine ride?” cried Crazy Jane.  “It’s almost like being in my own darlin’ automobile with the landscape slipping past on a greased track.  Now, what if one of the horses should fall down?  Wouldn’t we be tumbled into a goose pile!” chuckled Jane.

“Oh, thave me!” cried Tommy.

“Don’t suggest anything so awful,” begged Margery.