“Ith that what maketh Buthter tho uppithh thith afternoon?” questioned Tommy.

“It may be what makes you so light-headed,” retorted Margery.

“There!  Now, will you be good?” jeered Jane.

“Yeth.  That wath a good one.  Too bad you don’t thay thomething bright every day.  Think what a lot more fun we would have, Buthter.”

An hour was spent strolling about the summit, looking off at the magnificent scenery which stretched on all sides of them.

A cup of coffee apiece was made and drunk, but fire-making material was so scarce that no attempt was made to cook a meal.  About mid-afternoon the party was called to attention and directed to shoulder their packs preparatory to their long tramp down the mountain side to the Shelter, where fresh clothing and food awaited them.  They left the summit with regret.  Harriet said she would give a great deal to see a sunrise from there.

“Wait for Mt.  Washington,” answered Janus.  “I shan’t tell you anything about it, but, once you are there, you will be glad you decided to climb it.”

Instead of climbing down over the rocks the party took what is known among mountaineers as a “tote trail,” a narrow pathway generally used for packing stuff into the mountains on the backs of human beings.  This “tote trail” was a winding trail full of twists and turns and surprises, now appearing to end at some high precipice, then creeping around the corner of a huge jutting rock, but ever dropping and dropping farther and farther away from the summit and nearer to the “Shelter,” which was their destination on this occasion.

Twilight was upon them again before they reached the main tourist trail.  It was now late in the season.  Not a human being had they seen since starting out to climb Mt.  Chocorua except for Hazel’s discovery of the strange man whom she had caught spying on their camp at the “Slide.”  The memory of that face still lingered in mind, nor had the incident been forgotten by any member of the party.  They wondered what the next surprise would be.  They were destined to know within a very short time.

Walking was good by this time and the remaining distance to the “Shelter” was covered at a greater rate of speed.  Janus swung to the right, then to the left, and behold, the little hut stood darkly before them!

“Here we are,” called the guide cheerily, striding over and throwing open the door.

CHAPTER XIX

THE STORY THE LIGHT TOLD

“Strike a light, if you please,” requested the guardian, as Janus stood holding the door of the hut open for his charges to enter.

“You’ll have a light directly,” returned the guide, applying a lighted match to the hanging lamp with its smoke-dimmed chimney.

“Oh, isn’t it nice and cosy in here?” sighed Margery contentedly, dropping down on a bench.  Unslinging her heavy pack, she let it fall to the floor.