“Well, it’s been done in two hours and thirty minutes,” the Scout Master replied. “But it was done in that time by two men, college athletes, in running drawers, and they were trained for mountain climbing, into the bargain. And they had clear weather to the top. Whoever told you that you could make it ought to have a licking. Of course your family will worry, but you—and they—will have to stand it, as the price of your foolhardiness. We are not going out of this hut while the storm lasts, that’s sure!”
Something in Mr. Rogers’ stern tone seemed to brace the girl suddenly up. She stopped sobbing, and said, “Very well, I suppose there’s nothing to do but wait.”
Then she rose to her feet, and stamped around a bit on her lame ankle, to keep it from getting stiffened up too much, and to warm her blood, besides.
“I’d like to know what the thermometer is,” said Frank. “Must be below freezing, that’s sure.”
Rob was looking out of the window. “I’m not so sure,” he answered. “It has stopped snowing now. Say! I believe it’s getting lighter!”
He opened the door and slipped out of the hut into the cloud. A moment later he came back.
“The north is surely breaking!” he cried. “This cloud bank hasn’t got far over the range. The north wind has fought it back. While I was watching, the wind seemed to tear a kind of hole in the cloud, and I saw a bit of the valley for a second. Come on out and watch!”
All the Scouts went outside, leaving the couple alone within. As soon as they got free of the lee side of the shelter, the gale hit them full force, the cloud condensing on their blankets, which they had hard work to keep wrapped about them. But the sight well repaid the effort. The wind was playing a mad game with the vapors on the whole north side of the range. The great cloud mass below them was thinner than it had been. They could see for several hundred feet along the bare or snow-and-ice capped rocks, which looked wild and desolate beyond description. Farther away, where the rocks were swallowed up in the mists, was a seething caldron of clouds, driven in wreaths and spirals by the wind. Suddenly a lane would open between them, and the rocks would be exposed far down the mountain. As suddenly the lane would close up again. Then it would once more open, perhaps so wide and far that a glimpse of green valley far below would come for a second into view. Once the top of Mount Dartmouth was visible for a full minute. Still later, looking northeast, the great northern shoulder of Mount Clay appeared.
“The clouds are not far down on the north side of the range, that’s a fact,” said Mr. Rogers. “With this north wind still blowing we may get it clear enough to tackle the peak yet. But we don’t want to stand out here in the cold too long.”
Everybody went back to the shelter and waited another half hour, which seemed more like two hours, as Peanut said. Then somebody went out again to reconnoitre, and returned with the information that the cloud was lifting still more, and the northern valley was visible. In another half hour even from within the cabin they could see it was very perceptibly lighter. The hurricane had subsided to a steady gale, which Rob estimated at forty miles an hour, by tossing a bit of paper into the air and watching the speed of its flight. It was warmer, too, though still very chilling in the fireless cabin. In another half hour you could walk some distance from the cabin without losing sight of it, and Peanut and Art went down to the spring behind for water. Then Mr. Rogers took the Scouts back on the trail a short distance and showed them a peep of the two Lakes of the Clouds back on the col toward Monroe.