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Aldridge, Janet

"The Missing Pilot of the White Mountains"


"You must follow me in single file," directed the guide. "It's a
narrow trail to the shelf, so no nonsense. Here, pass the rope along
and keep a tight hold on it, every one of you."
They did as directed. None had any desire to play pranks, now that
they could barely see where they were placing their feet. The guide
led them safely to the shelf rock, a huge slab of granite as level as a
house floor, about thirty feet long and ten feet deep. At the back
towered a solid sheet of granite for a hundred feet or more, while in
front the rocks dropped sheer for almost twice that distance.
The girls shivered a little as they peered over the edge of the slab.
The guide unslung a bundle of sticks that he had gathered somewhere in
the vicinity and threw them down.
"Unload and get ready for grub," he directed. "Here's enough wood for
the supper fire; I'll get some more later on; I know where to look for
it. Better keep away from the edge. There won't be any coming back,
if one of you falls over there."
"Yes, girls. Keep well back. We have had quite enough excitement for
one afternoon's climbing.


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