When we started, the earth was white on every hand, and the firs and spruces were like huge white umbrellas.

In a single hour earth and forest were black again.
But matters more practical than scenery engaged our attention.

It was eight miles farther to the fir swamp.

The good sledding had vanished with the snow; every hole and hollow was full of water; it was hard to get on with our team; and for a time we hardly knew what course to follow.
On a branch trail, about half a mile off the winter road, there was another camp, known to us as Brown's Camp, which had been occupied by loggers the winter before.

Addison thought that we had better go there and look for witches' brooms the next day.