The girls jumped.  For a second they thought Grace had fallen over, but great was their relief to see her standing a few feet from the edge of the precipice trying to peer over.

“What is it, dear?” called the guardian.

“Oh, I lotht the frying pan,” wailed Tommy.

“What!” shouted the girls.

“I lotht it.  I did.  I wath emptying it when it fell down.  But never mind, Mr. Januth will go down for it.”

The girls groaned.

“Now you have done it,” exclaimed Jane.  “Whatever are we going to do without a frying-pan?”

“I told you Mr. Januth ith going down after it,” insisted Tommy.

“No, Janus is not,” answered the guide.  “There isn’t enough of that frying-pan left to make grit for chickens.  Two hundred feet and then the rocks.  Well, I swum!  You’ll go without eating to-morrow, so far as the frying-pan is concerned.”

“We ought to do something to Tommy for that,” declared Harriet.  “What shall it be, girls?”

“Oh, let her alone.  Tommy will punish herself if you give her time,” averred Margery.

Tommy nodded.  “Yeth, leave it to me,” she urged.  “I can take care of mythelf.  Buthter ith right, for once in her life.  Leave it to me.”

They agreed to do so.  Harriet turned to Miss Elting.

“You promised to tell us the legend that belongs to this shelf of rock on which we are encamped.  If not too long a story, will you relate it now?”

The girls crept to the fire, about which they sat in a circle with their feet tucked under them in true council-fire style.

“You probably have read,” began Miss Elting, “that the Sokokis, a powerful Indian tribe, once held possession of these hills.  Chocorua, for whom this mountain is named, was chief of a mighty tribe.  The chief, in revenge for the loss of his son, who had been slain by the whites in battle, killed a white settler’s wife and child.  This white man swore to have the life of the powerful Chocorua.  Shouldering his gun, he followed the mountain trails for many days and nights.  The chief knew that an avenger was on his trail; his braves knew it.  They made every effort to catch the avenging white man, but he was too clever for them.  Yet not an Indian was molested.  The white man wanted only Chocorua, and Chocorua knew it.  The chief fled from place to place, ever pursued by the persistent avenger.  Then, at last, the white man found the trail when it was hot.  He followed the trail, and one day, when the morning was young, came face to face with the savage chief.”

“Do you know where they met, young ladies?” interrupted Janus, who was familiar with the legend.

The girls shook their heads.

“Right here where we are sitting now.”

“Grathiouth!” muttered Tommy, glancing about her apprehensively.