The sun was up when they reached camp again, and so were the other three campers.
“’Smatter, boys?” asked Mr. Stone. “Getting an appetite before breakfast?”
“So cold we couldn’t sleep,” they answered.
“I was none too warm myself.”
“And I was none too comfortable,” the doctor added.
“Ho!” cried Dumplin’, who was starting the breakfast over the fire, “I never woke up once. Just as warm as anything, and never felt a stone in me all night.”
“Well, who wouldn’t be warm if he was covered with a blubber bed-spread!” Bennie retorted.
“And who wouldn’t sleep soft if he carried his own upholstery?” said Spider.
“All right, kid,” Dumplin’ grinned. “But there are times when it pays.”
The sun was not far up when they finished breakfast, cached the grub and blankets and the packs, and armed only with the alpenstocks, a pocketful of raisins and chocolate, the canteens and cameras, set out for the summit of Scott’s Peak, which rose directly above them, and seemed to be reached, after the first pull up the steep side of the ravine, by a fairly easy incline. The map showed, too, that the distance was less than three miles.