any account. Hadn't we better use the rope again?"

"I don't believe we're anywhere near the way we came up. I don't
recognize these rocks in the least," said Meg.

"Never mind, if we get down somewhere to civilization," returned Gipsy.

"Yes, but we don't want to be five miles away from our bicycles!"

"We're all right!" exclaimed Donald jubilantly. "Here's the piece of
white quartz we were sitting on, I'm sure. Yes!" (grubbing about under
the snow) "I'm right, for here's a scrap of the silver paper from the
chocolate we were eating. Hurrah! I'm going to set up for an Alpine
guide!"

The snow was clearing considerably as they got farther down the
mountainside, and after a while they were able to recognize various
points of the landscape, and realized that Donald's compass and
instinct for locality had led them correctly.

"It was a narrow squeak, though," confessed Meg. "I don't mind telling
you now that I thought we should have to stay up there all night! It's
getting fearfully late--we must sprint back when we reach our machines."

"We'll have some hot tea at the inn first," declared Donald. "You girls
will never sprint six miles without!"

Very tired, but exceedingly proud of themselves, the mountaineers
reached home at half-past eight, to find Mr. and Mrs. Gordon looking out
anxiously for their return.

"You young scamps! I'd no idea you were going climbing on your own!"
said Mr. Gordon. "I'd have forbidden it if I'd known. Hawes Fell is a
nasty little bit at the finish."

"But we did it, Dad!" cried Meg excitedly. "We put our feet on all the
right ledges, just as you taught us. Oh! Don't you think I'm old enough
to go to Switzerland with you next summer, and try some real ice work?
You promised you'd take me when I was fifteen!"

CHAPTER XV

A School Mystery

AFTER the delightful three weeks spent with the Gordons, Gipsy felt that
so pleasant an experience of English home life made it doubly difficult
to return to Briarcroft. No news of her father had arrived during her
absence, and she was received with black looks by Miss Poppleton. She
had begun to dread, with a shrinking, nervous horror, those futile
interviews with the Principal--interviews in which she could only state
again how little she knew, and listen to fresh reproaches. She tried to
brace herself for the ordeal when ordered to the study, but her heart
failed her as she tapped at the door, and she entered with something of
the a