He rode toward the westering sun, keeping to the ridge they had ascended, until once more he came out upon a promontory.

Old Baldy loomed there, blacker and higher and closer.

The dark forest showed round, yellow, bare spots like parks.
"Not so far off the track," said Roy, as he wheeled his horse.

"We'll make camp in Milt's senaca to-night." He led down off the ridge into a valley and then up to higher altitude, where the character of the forest changed.

The trees were no longer pines, but firs and spruce, growing thin and exceedingly tall, with few branches below the topmost foliage.