“It may not be the man we think at all,” suggested the guardian.

“No-o-o-o,” drawled the guide reflectively.

“If not, what do you propose to do?” questioned Harriet.

“Why, keep on, of course,” answered the guide, in a tone of mild surprise.  “To-morrow we reach the top of Mount Washington; then we go down the other side, and so on till we get through.”

“All of which isn’t getting our supper,” Harriet reminded him laughingly.  “Jane, will you please shave some of the smoked beef?  And don’t spoil your appetite by nibbling, please.”

“Why, darlin’, I never did such a thing.  It was the beef that flew right into my mouth.  Now, what could poor Jane do under such circumstances, except to swallow hard?”

“Nothing but thubmit grathefully and thwallow the beef,” commented Tommy.

“And I did just that,” grinned Jane.

Their table was a rocky shelf elevated about ten inches above the ground and standing on a sort of standard, so that the girls were able, by sitting down beside it, to tuck their feet under the rock, which made an excellent board for the purpose.  The night had not yet fallen, but shadows hung over the valleys and the distant mountains, the purple tinge creeping slowly up the side of the mountain which they were climbing, enveloping the campers before they had finished eating their supper.

The evening, on the side of the mountain in their comfortable camp, was a delightful one.  They sat on their blankets beside a blazing campfire amid the great silence, broken only by the voices of the campers and the occasional cry of a night bird.  Janus, after having made a thorough patrol of the ground surrounding the camp, returned to the campfire and entertained the girls by telling of the early Indian days, stories that had been handed down by generations, and that had grown and grown until they had assumed startling proportions.

All at once Harriet, in the midst of one of these remarkable tales, tilted her head back, her eyes apparently studying the stars that hung over the mountain range to the south of them.  She gazed thoughtfully.  After a few seconds of this, she shifted the position of her head, supporting the latter with her clasped hands.  After remaining in this position for several minutes the girl got up, yawned and began walking slowly back and forth, the while listening to the guide’s story.

“Harriet, are you nervous or tired?” questioned the guardian, eyeing her shrewdly.

“I believe it must be nerves,” answered Harriet laughingly.  She strolled off into the shadows, there to sit down on a rock within easy sound of the voices of her companions, who soon forgot that she was not among them.  After making sure that she was safe in doing so, she slid slowly from the rock, and walking on all fours ran away into the bushes and out of sight.  It was a most unusual thing to do.  Had Crazy Jane been guilty of such an act, nothing would have been thought of it, but had Harriet Burrell’s companions observed her they would have opened their eyes in amazement.  Fortunately, they were too fully occupied with Janus Grubb’s story.