They soon found abundant use for the rope, of which Nell Thornton had spoken, and for the stout alpinstocks they had provided as well. The way was rough and steep, and they quickly came to a series of benches, where the rope was found invaluable.
“This is what I call tough,” grunted Browning, mopping his heated face at the end of one of these climbs.
“Cyant hab no chillins, an’ fevah, dough, Mistah Browning, when you sweat dat way,” laughed Toots. “Dis clamb is gwan ter cure yeh.”
“Or kill me!” Bruce growled.
“I wonder how these other fellows are getting on?” said Hodge.
“I don’t doubt they’re going faster than we are,” answered Merriwell. “But I’m depending on the judgment of that girl, and you know that we have the best of authority for believing that the race is not always to the swift.”
“Or the battle to the strong!” chimed in Diamond, completing the quotation.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Rattleton.
“Mr. Rattleton, what are you grinning about now?” queried Hodge.
“I was just thinking that if the battle were always to the strong, what a fight a polecat would put up!” answered Rattleton, with another shout.