The party now turned their attention to the Summit House, which was a two-story structure of fair size, built partly of stone, with great chains going over it to lash it down.
“I suppose if it wasn’t chained down it would blow away in winter,” said Art. “Strikes me we’re going to get some blow, even to-night.”
The west did, indeed, look windy, with great clouds suddenly piling up. But the Scout Master said you could never tell much about mountain weather—at least he couldn’t. They entered the little hotel to see the inside. Several people were there already. At the back of the room was a big stove, with a fire in it, too. To the boys, who had but just arrived after their hot climb, the room seemed uncomfortably warm.
“Going to spend the night here? Don’t know whether I’ve got room for you all,” said the proprietor.
“No, we’re going to sleep out,” Rob answered him. “We never sleep inside on a hike.”
“Well, I reckon you’ll need your blankets,” the man said. “The water froze here last night, in the rain barrel.”
“What’s that?” put in Peanut, who was examining picture post-cards. “Say, I move we go back down a way to camp.”
“I do too, if you’re going to try again to warm yourself between my shoulder blades,” said Art.
Everybody laughed, and a man came forward from behind the stove—a funny looking man, with big, hobnail shoes and big, shell-rimmed spectacles.
“Which way are you going down the mountain in the morning?” he asked.