CHAPTER V
Lost River and the Ladies
Once again the camp was astir at sunrise,
shortly after four. Everybody was cold, and,
truth to tell, a little cross.
"We're not hardened to this high air yet, I guess," said Art, as he built up the fire. But breakfast restored their good nature, and they all went back up the path to have a look at Jobildunk Ravine by day-*light, while Mr. Rogers was shaving.
"Got to shave, boys," he said, "because we strike a town—North Woodstock—this afternoon."
It was after six before the descent of the mountain began. At first the way led through thick woods, and, while it was steep, seemed no steeper than Kinsman. They came upon the embers of two or three camp-fires beside springs, and presently upon a small lean-to, built of bark and hemlock boughs, which would hold two people.
"Somebody got tired half-way up," laughed Art. "Gee, they could have got to the top while they were building this."
"Maybe they liked to build," Lou suggested, which seemed unanswerable.
