Two hours later they changed cars for the White Mountain express, at Springfield, and soon were rolling up the Connecticut valley, through country which was strange to them.
As the train passed along the high embankment above the village of Deerfield, Massachusetts, the boys crowded to the windows on the left side of the car, and gazed out upon the meadows where they had camped at the turning point of their first long hike, several years before. The village looked sleepy and quiet, under its great trees.
“Golly, they need waking up again!” Peanut laughed. “Remember how we trimmed ’em in baseball? There’s the field we played on, too.”
But almost before the rest could follow Peanut’s beckoning finger, the train was past. Deerfield was the last familiar spot they saw. Their way led northward, mile after mile, beside the Connecticut River, and they began to get a pretty good idea of what a lengthy thing a big river is.
“Take a good look at that river, boys,” said Mr. Rogers, “because in a few days we are going to eat our lunch at one of its head waters, and you can see what little beginnings big things have.”
In the afternoon, they came in sight of Mount Ascutney, close to the river in Windsor, Vermont.
“That’s only the height of Greylock, which we’ve climbed,” Mr. Rogers told them. “But you’ll begin to see some of the big fellows pretty soon.”
Sure enough, it was not long before Art, who was looking out of the eastern window, gave a cry. “There’s a big blue lump, with what looks like a house on top!”
Mr. Rogers looked. “You’re right, it’s a big lump, all right! That’s the second one we’ll climb. It’s Moosilauke.” He peered sharply out of the window. “There,” he added, “do you see a saddleback mountain beyond it, which looks like Greylock? That’s Kinsman. We’ll celebrate the Fourth to-morrow, on top of him.”
“Hooray!” cried Peanut. “I got two packs of firecrackers in my kettle!”
“About 4,200 feet,” Mr. Rogers answered. “That’s only 700 feet higher than Greylock, but I can promise you it will seem more, and there’ll be a different view.”
Peanut was running from one side of the car to the other, trying to see everything. But the nearer they got to the mountains, the less of the mountains they saw. After the train turned up the narrow valley of the Ammonoosuc, at Woodsville, in fact, they saw no more mountains at all. An hour later they got off the train at the Sugar Hill station. So did a great many other people. There were many motors and mountain wagons waiting to carry off the new arrivals. The boys, at Art’s suggestion, let these get out of the way before they started, so the dust would have a chance to settle. It was late in the afternoon when they finally set out.