"We follow the bed of this brook almost to the top," explained Bob who was leading the way. "We come into it here, you see. In summer it is a narrow path clearly marked by rough stones; you wouldn't believe how different it looks now all covered with snow. It doesn't seem like the same place. I didn't realize what a difference the snow would make in everything. But, anyway, we can't miss the way with these great boulders along the sides of the path; and even if we did the trees are blazed."
They pushed on for some time.
Then the strap of Van's snow-shoe broke.
"Oh, thunder! Got a knife, Bob?" he called. "This darn thing's busted. I'll have to haul to for repairs."
Bob stopped impatiently.
"Why didn't you look at it before you started?" he said.
"Never thought of it, Old Preparedness," was the good-natured reply. "No matter, I have some string and I think I can fix it."
It took some time, however, to make the fastening to the shoe and moccasin secure, and in the meantime the sun went behind a cloud.
"I guess Father wasn't a very good weather prophet," remarked Bob, glancing at the sky. "It seems to be clouding up."
"Don't fret. What do we care?" was Van's easy answer. "We're not really after the view. I don't give a hurrah for what we see when we get to the top; what I want is the fun of doing it."