"A great mountain climber you
are, sleeping here all day. Have you forgotten you're going up
Monadnock to-day?"
"Hang Monadnock! I was sound asleep when you lammed that pillow at
me, you heathen. What's the good of waking me up at this unearthly
hour?" yawned Van.
"It's seven o'clock."
"Seven o'clock!" Van straightened up and stared. "Why, man alive, I
haven't been asleep fifteen minutes."
"You've been lying like a log for nine mortal hours," chuckled Bob.
"Great Scott! Some sleep, isn't it? That's better than I do at
Colversham."
"Rat_her!_"
"Well, I need sleep. I'm worn out with over-study."
"You are, like--"
"I am. I'm an intellectual wreck," moaned Van. "It's the Latin."
Bob burst into a shout, which was cut short by a rap at the door.
"Time to get up, boys," called the cheery voice of Mr. Carlton.
"Step lively, please. Here's a can of hot water."
The boys wasted no more time in fooling.
They bathed, dressed, and almost before they knew it were at the
table partaking of a hearty breakfast which was capped by heaps of
golden brown pancakes rendered even more golden by the sea of maple-syrup
in which they floated.
"I'll never be able to climb anything after this meal," Van gasped
as he left the table and was thrusting his arms into his sweater.
Bob grinned.
"Don't expect us back before late afternoon, Father," he called over
his shoulder. "We've a long slow climb ahead of us because of the
snow. Probably we shall find it drifted in lots of places.
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