THE START OF THE TRAIL 5 
February twenty-first, and asked him to have a 
man with a team meet me at the station and be 
ready to start at once for the woods, so that I 
might return to the village in time for the mid- 
night train back to Boston. Soon after I had sent 
this letter, however, some urgent matters of busi- 
ness came up, obliging me to take the trip two days 
earlier than I had originally intended. So I sent a 
telegram to this effect. 
The morning of February nineteenth, 1903, 
found me standing in the snow outside a lonely 
railroad station. It was long before sunrise. The 
conductor had swung his lantern, and now the 
twinkling red lights on the rear of the train that 
had brought me were vanishing in the distance. I 
was alone beneath the stars. Three feet and more 
of snow lay level on the ground. It was bitter cold, 
with the mercury far below the zero mark. For a 
while I stood awaiting the expected sled from the 
hotel ; in absolute silence, save for the distant, ever- 
fainter rumbling of the departing train, I listened 
for the jingling sound of sleigh-bells which should 
come from the direction of the village; but none 
came. Evidently my plans had miscarried. Events 
move slowly in the Maine woods, and dates and 
appointments are sometimes forgotten or fulfilled 
at leisure. 
When my feet had begun to grow cold and my 
