THE MAN OF THE FOREST

CHAPTER I

At sunset hour the forest was still, lonely, sweet with tang of fir and
spruce, blazing in gold and red and green; and the man who glided on
under the great trees seemed to blend with the colors and, disappearing,
to have become a part of the wild woodland.

Old Baldy, highest of the White Mountains, stood up round and bare,
rimmed bright gold in the last glow of the setting sun. Then, as the
fire dropped behind the domed peak, a change, a cold and darkening…