taking off their packs, dried out their shirts so rapidly that the evaporation made them cold.
Once on top of Haystack, their way over the summit of the ridge lay plain before them, the view opened out on both sides, and they dropped their burdens to have a long look.
Straight ahead, the path dropped down to the col between Haystack and Lincoln—a col being the connecting spine, ridge, or saddle between two peaks. This col was certainly a spine, bare, wind-swept, narrow, nothing but an edge of gray tumbled rock. The mountain dropped down sharply on both sides, and the boys exclaimed, almost in a breath:
"Gee, I'd hate to cross that with the winter storms sweeping it!"
"I'd hate to be anywhere above timber line, in a winter storm," said Mr. Rogers, "unless I was dressed like Peary on his dash to the Pole, and the path was plain."
It was perhaps a mile across the col to Lincoln. "And beyond that another mile or more—up all the way—to Lafayette!" the Scout Master cried. "Shall we make Lafayette before we lunch, or not?"
The Scouts all voted for it, and moved on again, across the col to Lincoln. The path lay entirely over stones, not great levels of ledge, but small, broken stones, making walking with anything but very stout boots on extremely trying to the feet.
