A WINTRY WILDERNESS. 
233 
was glazed with white ice, and from the two 
banks of the stream, borders of ice reached 
towards each other, half concealing the greenish 
waters which lapped their edges. 
The sleighing was excellent. Not more than 
eight inches of snow had fallen during the week, 
and it was the first enduring fall of the season. 
It had been followed by a dash of rain and then 
a sudden freeze. After going a mile on the 
North Conway road, we turned to the left into 
a road leading westward towards the narrow 
pass between Chocorua and Moat. The im¬ 
mense crags of Moat frowned upon us. Then 
we plunged into a pine forest and felt the first 
chill of night. As we sped through the shadow, 
we passed the skinned carcass of an ox hung by 
its fore-legs to the limb of a pine. A strange 
slaughtering-place, and one to tempt sniffing 
foxes when night falls. A mile farther on, the 
skull of a bear grinned on the tip of a pole in 
the brush fence by the roadside. 
Music sounded in our ears, and far below the 
narrow road, which was grooved in the moun¬ 
tain-side, we saw Swift River plunging from 
ledge to pool on its way to the Saco. The Saco 
had seemed wild when we saw it in Conway in¬ 
tervale, but this stream’s madness left it placid 
by comparison. Two steep slopes, glare with 
crusted snow, led down to the narrow channel. 
