"Let's shake this bunch," Art whispered to Peanut. "They give me a pain."
The boys ran back, ahead, to the coach house, entered once more, and bolted the door behind them, lest the new party try to get in.
"Golly, we've got to get that bugle, and have the laugh on whatever his name is—he didn't tell us, did he? I'm going up after it," said Peanut.
He kicked off his shoes, and started on tiptoe up the stairs. Art heard the floor creak overhead, and then he heard a smothered laugh.
A moment later the man appeared with the bugle in one hand, and Peanut's ear in the other. Peanut was still attached to the ear, and he was trying hard not to laugh out loud.
"Caught you red-handed," said the man. "Hello, there, Art! You up too? How's the weather?"
"Fine," said Art. "Come on out and wake 'em all up."
The man looked at his watch, then at the sky through the window. The east was already light. The stars were paling. You could see out over the bare rock heaps of the mountain top.
"Come on!" he said.
The three went outdoors. The party with lanterns had already passed the coach house and climbed the steps to the summit. They could be heard up there, talking. The man and the boys
