The Meadow-Brook Girls in the Hills | Page 8

their
luncheon, which was to be a cooked one instead of a "cold bite." Hazel,
Jane and Margery spread a blanket on the ground, while Tommy sat on
a rail fence, offering expert advice but declining to assist in the
preparations.
It was a merry meal. Even Janus was forced to smile now and then, the
driver making no effort to conceal his amusement over the bright
sallies of the Meadow-Brook Girls.
"Come! We must be going, unless you want to camp beside the road
to-night," urged the guide. The girls had finished their luncheon and
were strolling about the field.
"Why, we haven't thettled our dinner yet," complained Tommy.
"You'll have it well settled in less than an hour. The road from here on
is rough," returned Janus. "You'll be wanting another meal before the
sun is three hours from the hills."
"We want to pick some wild flowers," called Margery.

"Girls, don't delay us! The driver wishes to get back home to-night and
we must reach the camping place in which Mr. Grubb has planned for
us to spend the night," warned the guardian.
"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."
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