RIVERS IN SUMMER

EVERYWHERE there was change and movement.
Low-running, ice-edged rivers were transformed
into roaring torrents as the high snows melted and
rushed down in floods to the valleys. Great trees,
torn from the banks, sailed majestically down-
stream. Logs floated, half submerged, down boiling
rapids. Boulders and pebbles were wrenched from
their places and dashed against the rocky walls of
canyons.

Everywhere there was colour. The darkness of
spruce and pine became a foil for the mist of green
leaves on bank and slope. River benches and rolling
hills grew a green carpet. The earth showed richly
brown along trail and goat-path and under the feet
of forests. The smell of earth came forth sweetly
under the sun, and the scent of scrub-willow and
aspen and alder was blown about in the valleys.
Everywhere there was movement and colour and
scent.

And the movement of water brought men from
their cabins to cross the lakes in boats and to pass up

and down on the flooded rivers. The smell of the
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