“Hm,” said Mr. Rogers, “if it’s no worse than that we needn’t worry. It’s those two behind I’m thinking about.”
The Scouts moved on, across the col between Franklin and Monroe, with the north wind blowing an increasing gale, and always now on their right the yawning pit of Oakes Gulf. They were not more than half-way across when the couple behind them came over Franklin, following them. They were under the southern side of Monroe, some little distance below the summit, and very close to the head wall of the gulf, when the couple caught them.
Meanwhile the cone of Washington had gone out of sight in a white mass. Southward, the view was shut out, for the haze had moved up against the wind. Down at their very feet, in Oakes Gulf, a cloud suddenly appeared from nowhere, coming to the last scrub evergreens.
The couple hailed the boys with panting breath.
“How much farther is it up Washington?” the man asked.
Mr. Rogers and the Scouts turned and looked at them. They were young, evidently city bred, and they had on very light shoes. The girl had on a silk waist, the man a stiff collar! They had no food with them, having eaten some sandwiches they brought, so they said, as they walked. They had put on their sweaters, and had no other protection.
“You are two miles from the summit yet,” said Mr. Rogers, “with the hardest part of the climb ahead.”
“Oh, John, I can never do it!” said the girl.
“We’ve _got_ to do it,” the man answered. “You see,” he added to Mr. Rogers, “we’ve got to catch the train down. Some people are waiting for us at the Mount Pleasant House.”
“The train down!” said Mr. Rogers. “Why, man alive, it’s nearly noon now, and the train goes down shortly after one. It will take you two hours to make the summit cone, with your--your wife in her present condition, even if you don’t lose the path.”
“I--I’m not his wife,” the girl said, turning very pale. “We are engaged only. You see, we’ve got to get down again to-day. Oh, John, we _must_ catch that train!”
“Come on, then, we’ll do it! Why, we can make two miles in less than an hour! Two hours, indeed!”
He started ahead, but Mr. Rogers grabbed his arm.
“Hold on!” he said, “have you ever been on this mountain before?”
“Well, I have,” the Scout Master continued. “Ahead of you lies the most dangerous stretch of path east of the Rocky Mountains. There’s a cloud coming down from Washington, and we may have a storm at any minute. You’ve got no compass, no provisions, no proper clothes. You’d lose that path in five minutes in a cloud. In 1900, the thirtieth day of June, two men, good strong walkers, too, died of exposure between here and the summit. You stay with us.”