went around to the south of the coach house, out of sight of the summit, and setting his bugle to his lips, tipping it upward toward the now rosy east, the man pealed out the gay, stirring notes of reveille.
"Oh, do it again!" cried Peanut. "Gee, I like it up here! I know now why you brought the bugle."
The man smiled, and blew reveille again.
Before the last notes had died away, they heard stampings in the house behind them, and cries of "Can it!" "Say, let a feller sleep, won't you?" "Aw, cut out the music!"
"Get up, you stiffs, and see the sun rise!" shouted Peanut. "Going to be a grand day!"
Five minutes later the Scouts and the men were all out of the coach house, on the rocks beside Art and Peanut.
"It is a good day, that's a fact," said Mr. Rogers. "Where's the best place to see the sun rise?"
"I'd suggest the top of the mountain," said the bugler.
It was light now. The east was rosy, and as they looked down southward over the piles of bare, tumbled rock toward Tuckerman's Ravine, they could see masses of white cloud, like cotton batting. Up the steps they all hurried, and found the lantern party eating sandwiches in the shelter of the Tip Top House, out of the wind.
