Never before or since have I seen six inches of snow go out
of sight so suddenly. When we started, the earth was white on every
hand, and the firs and spruces were like huge white umbrellas. In a
single hour earth and forest were black again.
But matters more practical than scenery engaged our attention. It was
eight miles farther to the fir swamp. The good sledding had vanished
with the snow; every hole and hollow was full of water; it was hard to
get on with our team; and for a time we hardly knew what course to
follow.
On a branch trail, about half a mile off the winter road, there was
another camp, known to us as Brown's Camp, which had been occupied by
loggers the winter before. Addison thought that we had better go there
and look for witches' brooms the next day. We reached the camp just at
dusk, after a hard scramble over a very rough bit of trail.
Brown's Camp consisted of two low log houses, the man camp and the ox
camp, and dreary they looked, standing there silent and deserted in the
dark, wet wilderness of firs.
The heavy door of the ox camp stood ajar, and I think a bear must
recently have been inside, for it was only with the greatest difficulty
that we could lead or pull the horses in.
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