244 AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER. 
to see the engine come in. On its arrival one 
heavily laden car was attached to it, and the 
train, thus made up, at once started back. 
Meanwhile, we had met two tree sparrows by 
the roadside and seen our crossbills and gold¬ 
finches on their favorite trees. They had, ap¬ 
parently, eaten none of the cracked corn sprin¬ 
kled for them upon the snow. As the train was 
about to start, we boarded the engine and gained 
a promise from the engineer to let us out at the 
foot of Bear Mountain. Crossing Swift River, 
the train entered the spruce forest and began 
its winding journey towards Upper Bartlett. 
With my head out of the left-hand window, I 
absorbed all the novelty and beauty of the 
scene. Inside, the engineer sat at his window 
with his earnest eyes looking up the track, his 
strong hand upon crank or lever, and his face 
grave and quiet. The fireman poured oil into 
the sucking cups above the boiler; then he 
clanked the chain of the furnace door, peeped 
into the raging fire within, hurled into it a 
shovelful of coal dust, rammed it home with 
the poker, worked the movable lever which 
dumped ashes, and again poured oil into the 
sucking, choking cups. 
Outside, the spruce forest hemmed us in, but 
rising above it headland after headland of black 
rocks, snow-incrusted ledges, and lofty spruces 
