IN THE PAUGUS WOODS. 
261 
knew enough not to cross this bridge, for after 
inspecting it he whined, ran down the bank, 
plunged through the stream, and clambered up 
the other side. 
At half past two we had reached rather high 
land. The road was fast climbing the flank of 
Paugus, following a minor branch of the Oli- 
verian Brook. Just across this little run rose 
the gloomiest grove of spruces we had seen. It 
stood upon a bank fifty feet above the road and 
brook. I clambered up to it, and forced my 
way through its dense tangle. To my surprise 
I found that it was only about thirty feet wide, 
growing on a mere tongue of land between two 
mountain gorges. On the farther side the land 
fell off abruptly two or three hundred feet, and 
down in the shades below still another branch 
of the Oliverian fretted in its bed. Beyond it 
was another ridge, over which, a mile and more 
away, grim Passaconaway frowned across at 
me. A white cloud-banner streamed from his 
spruce-crowned head. To the serious detriment 
of my clothes I climbed a tall spruce on the 
edge of the ravine in order to determine our 
position. Behind us was Paugus, its summits 
within comparatively easy reach. From them 
I could have looked down at my snow-covered 
home by Chocorua lakes. Westward, just 
across the forest basin on whose edge we stood, 
