Then they pressed on. They walked fast, and, with nothing to delay them, they made good time, pausing only once in a while to take a sip from their water bottles.
"I can't hear the girls singing any more, can you?" asked Dolly, presently.
"No," said Bessie, pausing to listen. "I guess we must be quite a little way ahead of them now. We ought to be, of course."
"How much sooner than they ought we to reach the peak?"
"That's pretty hard to tell. I don't know how far it is. But I should think we ought to walk about four miles to their three. So if it's ten miles, we ought to be about two miles and a half ahead of them when we get there—and they ought to walk that in about half an hour—say a little more, forty minutes."
"That would give us plenty of time to get things ready."
"I should hope so! We really haven't so very much to do when we get there. It's quite an honor for us to be allowed to make the fire, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is. But we won the right to do it, Bessie. You must remember that. And, of course, it isn't like a ceremonial fire."
"No, but it's a real fire, and an important one. Look! We're beginning to go down hill now. We'll be climbing again before we get there, though."
"Let's hurry! I'm just crazy to get the fire started. Who is going to make the light?"