XVIII 

 IN THE BARREN GROUNDS 



WHEN we left the " last wood," toiling over the succes- 

 sion of rocky ridges that lay to the north, a curiously de- 

 pressing sensation possessed me as I viewed the " last 

 wood " grow smaller and smaller. Piece by piece its size 

 diminished as the intervening elevations shut off the out- 

 lying patches. It seemed like bidding farewell to the last 

 tie that connected us with the living world and then at 

 the next ridge it was gone, and not a green thing relieved 

 the awful ghastliness of the whiteness that encircled us 

 for miles and miles. Wherever I looked north, south, 

 east, west nothing showed but that terrible stretch of 

 silent, grinning white. And the sun shone down on 

 this desolate scene and on me as placidly as it shone 

 upon the most blessed of God's world, if with less 

 warmth ! 



There was no halting once we had climbed the long 

 reach of ridges that led north from our camp and passed 

 out of sight of the " last wood." It was absolutely neces- 

 sary for us to make good time if our wood was to carry us 

 as far north as I wished to penetrate, and I was much 

 pleased with Beniah for the pace he set. In fact, I never 

 ceased to be thankful that I had secured him, for not only 

 did we maintain a good gait in the face of the hardest 

 going, but we continuously faced such storms as would 

 have stopped any other leader. Beniah was a plucky Ind- 



