d the party sat down to lunch
shortly after one, half-famished but happy, little dreaming of the
thrilling adventure which was to befall them ere another day had
passed.

CHAPTER VI

A CRY IN THE NIGHT

In the late afternoon, after the girls and Aunt Betty had taken their
naps, Gerald suggested a jaunt down the mountainside toward the
valley. The suggestion was eagerly accepted by Aurora, Dorothy, Molly
and Jim. Aunt Betty agreed that she would stay with Ephraim to look
after the camp, being unable to do the climbing which would be
necessary on the return.

No Alpine stocks had been brought, but Gerald and Jim again sallied
forth with the hand-ax, the result being that in a short while the
entire party was equipped with walking sticks.

Telling Aunt Betty good-by, and warning Ephraim not to stray away
from his mistress during their absence, they soon were off down the
pathway leading toward the village in the valley.

"I'll tell you, girls, there's some class to this outing," said
Gerald, who, with Dorothy, led the way.

Molly and Aurora, with Jim as escort, were close behind.

"This is one of the most beautiful spots I have ever seen," said
Molly. "The picturesque grandeur of the Rockies is missing, to be
sure, but there is something fascinating about these low, quiet
mountains. It makes one feel as if one could stay here forever and
ever."

"Come--don't get poetical, Molly," warned Jim. "This is a very modern
gathering, and blank verse is not appreciated."

"Nothing was farther from my thoughts than blank verse, Jim Barlow,
and you know it!"

"Sounded like blank verse to me," and Jim grinned.

"You mustn't blame me for being enthused over such sights as these.
If you do not experience the same sensation, there is something sadly
deficient in your make-up."

"That's right, Molly; rub it in," Dorothy said, over her shoulder.
"Jim is entirely too practical--too prosaic--for this old world of
ours. We simply must have a little romance mixed in with our other
amusements, and poetry is naturally included."

"Hopelessly overruled," murmured Jim. "So sorry I spoke. Go ahead,
Molly; sing about the rocks and rills, the crags and--and--"

"Pills?" suggested Aurora.

"Well, anything you wish; I'm no poet."

"You're no poet, and we all know it," hummed Aurora.

"I dare you girls to go as far as the village!" cried Dorothy.

"How about the boys?" Gerald wanted to know.

"They are included in the