his shoulder. "We've a long slow climb ahead of us because of the
snow. Probably we shall find it drifted in lots of places. Then we
shall want some time at the top of the mountain, you know. Besides,
we're going to stop and cook chops, and that will delay us. So don't
worry if we don't turn up much before dinner time."

"You're sure you know the trail, Bob?" his mother called as the
trampers went down the steps.

"Why, Mother dear, what a question! Know the trail? Haven't I
climbed that mountain so many times that I could go up it backwards
and with my eyes shut?"

"I guess that's true, Mother," agreed Mr. Carlton reassuringly.

"Good-bye, then," said Bob's mother. "Have a fine day and don't
freeze your noses."

The boys waved, and with a scuff of their snow-shoes were off.

The climb was indeed a stiff one. At first the trail led through
low, flat woods, fragrant with hemlock and balsam; here it was
sheltered and warm. But soon the real ascent began.

"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