under their names, the make of the cars they had come up the mountain in.
"Gee, how silly," said Art.
"Wait," said Peanut, his eyes twinkling, "till I register."
He wrote his name last, and under it he printed, in big, heavy letters:
Smith and Jerome's Shoes.
"There," he cried, "that's the motor I came up in! Good ad. for old Smith and Jerome, eh? Might as well advertise our Southmead store-*keepers."
The man with the bugle, who was standing behind the boys, peeked over at the register, and roared with laughter.
"You're all right, kid!" he said. "I wish the motor parties could see it. It would serve 'em right for boasting about owning a car. Besides, that's the lazy loafer's way of climbing a mountain. If I were boss, I'd dynamite the carriage road and the railroad, and then nobody could get here but folks who knew how to walk."
"You're like the man on Moosilauke," said Lou.
"I'm like all true mountaineers," he answered.
"And Scouts," said Peanut.
Rob had now finished a brief account of their
