the sunset, and then I'll take you down the trail into the woods beyond the head of Jobildunk Ravine. You'll keep warm in there, all right."
"Can you find your way back, sir?" asked Lou.
The man's eyes twinkled. "If I can't, I deserve to be lost," he answered. "I've lived a month on top of this mountain every summer for more years than I care to confess."
"Gee, it must be slow up here all that time!" said Peanut.
"What do you mean, slow, young man?" the other asked.
Peanut fumbled a moment for words. "Why, nothing doing—no excitement," he finally replied.
"Ah, youth, youth! Happy, happy youth!" the stranger exclaimed. "You love excitement, eh? Well, you'll get some going down the Beaver Brook Trail to-morrow. By George, I've a great mind to give you some now! How far have you walked to-day?"
"Nineteen miles," said Peanut, shifting uneasily on his sore heel, and beginning to repent what he had said. Somehow, as Art whispered to Frank, the man looked as if he could "deliver the goods."
"No, that's far enough," the stranger replied, after a long pause, as if for reflection. "I won't dare a man who's hiked nineteen miles—or a boy either."
