170 A BED OF BOUGHS. 



" Anywhere," replied Aaron, " so that we have a 

 good tramp and plenty of primitive woods. No 

 doubt we should find good browsing on Peakamoose, 

 and trout enough in the streams at its base." 



So without further ado we made ready, and in due 

 time found ourselves, with our packs on our backs, 

 entering upon a pass in the mountains that led to the 

 valley of the Rondout. 



The scenery was wild and desolate in the extreme, 

 the mountains on either hand looking as if they had 

 been swept by a tornado of stone. Stone avalanches 

 hung suspended on their sides or had shot down into 

 the chasm below. It was a kind of Alpine scenery 

 where crushed and broken bowlders covered the 

 earth instead of snow. 



In the depressions in the mountains the rocky 

 fragments seemed to have accumulated and to have 

 formed what might be called stone glaciers that were 

 creeping slowly down. 



Two hours' march brought us into heavy timber 

 where the stone cataclysm had not reached, and be- 

 fore long the soft voice of the Rondout was heard in 

 the gulf below us. We paused at a spring run, and 

 I followed it a few yards down its mountain stair- 

 way, carpeted with black moss, and had my first 

 glimpse of the unknown stream. I stood upon rocks 

 and looked many feet down into a still, sunlit pool 

 and saw the trout disporting themselves in the trans- 

 parent water, and I was ready to encamp at once; 

 but my companion, who had not been tempted by the 



