“How many miles?” asked Lickford.
“Miles? Who ever reckoned mountains by miles? It’s three hours to the top.”
“That’ll be nine o’clock,” wisely observed Cash.
“Who knows the way up?” Percy asked.
“Way up? Can’t you see it?” said Wally. “When you get to the bottom, you go straight up.”
“All very well for you. I can’t walk up a perpendicular cliff. I dare say I could come straight down if I tried,” submitted Percy.
“Oh, there are lots of paths. It’s as easy as pot,” said Wally. “Suppose we have a bit of grub now. It’ll be less to carry, you know.”
Whereupon an attack was made on the provisions, with the result that considerably less was left to carry up.
The meal ended, a start was made in earnest, and the party trailed down the valley towards the lake at an easy jog-trot, and came to the conclusion that ascending a pike was ridiculously simple work.
By the time they reached the lake, and began to strike up the winding lane that led round to the rearward slopes of the great mountain, an hour had passed.