of 



the trunk a subdued quiver or vibration, and I 

 half believe that a tree's greatest joys are the 

 dances it takes with the winds. 



Conditions changed while I rocked there ; the 

 clouds rose, the wind calmed, and the rain 

 ceased to fall. Thunder occasionally rumbled, 

 but I was completely unprepared for the blind- 

 ing flash and explosive crash of the bolt that 

 came. The violent concussion, the wave of air 

 which spread from it like an enormous, invisible 

 breaker, almost knocked me over. A tall fir that 

 stood within fifty feet of me was struck, the top 

 whirled off, and the trunk split in rails to the 

 ground. I quickly went back to earth, for I was 

 eager to see the full effect of the lightning's 

 stroke on that tall, slender evergreen cone. 

 With one wild, mighty stroke, in a second or 

 less, the century-old tree tower was wrecked. 



Leaving this centenarian, I climbed up the 

 incline a few hundred feet higher and started 

 out through the woods to the deforested side. 

 Though it was the last week in June, it was not 

 long before I was hampered with snow. Ragged 

 patches, about six feet deep, covered more than 



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