In it there were none of the old familiar sounds.

The purring drone of the upper valley was gone.

There were no whistlers, and no ptarmigan, and no fat little gophers running about.

The water of the lake lay still, and dark, and deep, with black and sunless pools hiding themselves under the roots of trees, so close did the forest cling to it.

There were no rocks to climb over, but dank, soft logs, thick windfalls, and litters of brush.