256 AT THE NORTH OF BEARCAMP WATER. 
and bushes rearranged themselves into weird 
shapes which seemed to move against the vague 
background of the snow. The silence of the 
cold black and white woods became oppressive, 
and the chill of night increased moment by mo¬ 
ment. The baying of the hound, lost to the 
eastward, had come again from the north, and 
finally moved over towards the west. It was 
after five o’clock, and the dog had followed his 
chase since eleven. Standing still, listening to 
the hound, and peering into the trees in search 
of the grouse, I began to grow drowsy, and to 
long to sink down upon the soft snow and go to 
sleep. It required a strong effort of will to 
rouse myself and to start my benumbed feet 
upon their homeward way. As soon as I moved, 
the grouse, which had been budding in a high 
maple, flew away deeper into the gloom, and 
then utter silence settled down upon the deserted 
forest. 
When we awoke, December 24, the day prom¬ 
ised to be fine. Blue sky covered the area above 
Carrigain, and a cool west wind swept across 
the fields from which much of the snow had 
disappeared. We had planned to climb another 
of the mountains near the railway track, but 
while we were breakfasting, the engine came in, 
and, finding no cars loaded, went out again at 
once. By nine o’clock clouds had gathered and 
