We started at daybreak, and expected, if all went well, to reach the first of the two lumber camps by nine o'clock that evening.
We had a passenger with us--an eccentric old hunter named Tommy Goss, with his traps and gun.

He had come to the farm the previous night, on his way up to his trapping grounds beyond the logging camps, and as his pack was heavy, he was glad of a lift on the scoot.

Tommy was a queer, reticent old man; I wanted him to tell me about his trapping, but could get scarcely a word from him.

We were pretty busy with our horses, however, for it is not easy to manage so many halters.
The air was very frosty and sharp in the early morning; but when the sun came up from a mild, yellow, eastern sky, we felt a little warmer.

Not a breath of wind stirred the tree tops.