Then we
needn't be in a hurry to get down. We'll risk it, anyhow."
"I reckon that's about the only thing to be done," assented the guide.
And in twenty minutes' time the four were again straining up Katahdin,
clutching slippery rocks, sinking in sodden earth, shivering as they
were besprinkled by every bush and dwarfed tree, and dreadfully hampered
with their rifles.
"Never mind, boys; we'll get there! Clinch yer teeth, and don't squirm!
Once we're past this tangle, the bit of climbing that's left will be as
easy as rolling off a log!"
So shouted Herb cheerfully, as he tore a way with hand and foot through
the stunted growth of alders and birch, which, beaten down by the winds,
was now an almost impassable, sopping tangle.
"Keep in my tracks!" he bellowed again. "Gracious! but this sort o' work
is as slow as molasses crawling up-hill in winter."
But ten minutes later, when the dripping jungle was behind, he dropped
his jesting tone.
He came to a full stop, catching his breath with a big gulp.
"Boys," he cried, "it's standing yet! I see it--the old home-camp! There
it is above us on that bit of a platform, with the big rock behind it.
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