Here the fishermen lived, sleeping away 

 the bitter winter. In the late autumn they 

 had left the fishing village at Harbor Weal, 

 driven out like the wild ducks by the fierce 

 gales that raged over the whole coast. With 

 their abundant families and scant provisions 

 they had followed the trail up the Southwest 

 Brook till it doubled around the mountain 

 and led into a great silent wood, sheltered 

 on every side by the encircling hills. Here 

 the tilts were built with double walls, filled in 

 between with leaves and moss, to help the 

 little stoves that struggled bravely with the 

 terrible cold ; and the roofs were covered 

 over with poles and bark, or with the brown 

 sails that had once driven the fishing-boats 

 out and in on the wings of the gale. The 

 high mountains on the west stood between 

 them and the icy winds that swept down 

 over the sea from the Labrador and the 

 Arctic wastes; wood in abundance was at 

 their doors, and the trout-stream that sang 

 all day long under its bridges of snow and 

 ice was always ready to brim their kettles 

 out of its abundance. 





147 



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