l take his dare and see who'll scale yon hillside fust!

Lead on, Mr. Malone. We'll make it or die in the attempt."

"All right, me brave Scouts," replied Pat. "Up we go! 'Tis a chance to
see the kind of stuff that's in the likes of you, for 'twill be no
child's play getting this load up there. And when we get up there where
you see the bare rock watch your footing. That rock is slippery, and a
fall there would be serious."

The next half hour was one of panting, sweating toil. In the first
place, as soon as the grade began to rise sharply the boys found that
the only way they could progress was by digging their toes into the snow
through the toe holes in the shoes, which brought an added strain on the
already weary muscles of the calves. It would have been bad enough in
view of their inexperience if they had had nothing else to consider, but
there was that heavy load, and it grew heavier every minute. As they got
higher where the wind had had full sweep there was comparatively little
snow, and in some places the bare rock was exposed. Here they found it
easier going without the snow-shoes than with them.

Hauling and pushing they worked the toboggan up until at last the spur
was crossed.

"Gee whiz!" exclaimed Hal. "I'm sweating like a butcher. That's what I
call work."

"And we're doing it for fun," added Upton. "Funny what a difference the
view-point makes. I suppose it's all in the way you look at it whether
work is fun or fun is work. I can tell you one thing, and that is that I
for one am mighty glad that there isn't another one of those things to
cross to-day. I'm afraid I'd lie down and holler quits. What are you
rubbing your legs for, Sparrer?"

"Just feeling of 'em to get wise if dey's all dere," replied Sparrer.

The remainder of the trail to Little Goose was comparatively easy and
they reached the familiar lean-to just as dusk was settling down, and
there was more than one sigh of thankfulness as the shoes were kicked
off for the last time.

"I'm tired enough to drop right down and go to sleep in the snow, but my
little tummy won't let me," confessed Hal. "Ring for the waiter, please,
and have him bring me a planked steak with half a chicken on the side,
grapefruit salad, and a pot of coffee with real cream. Wake me up when
it comes."

"Nothing doing," declared Pat. "This isn't the Waldorf Astoria, but
Hotel de Shivers; heat and food supplied only to those who pay in labor,
all bills payable in a