BEYOND THE TRAIL 123

a clear-cut mountain, and after weary hours we
left the misty glaciers and entered a valley of cold
winds and rainbows. Our clothing stiffened in the
sharp air. The horses quivered and snorted and
clattered their hooves upon the stones.

* * *

“Tisten, now. I’ll swear I’ve heard em before,
an’ I’m not the only one, neither.”

Small flames flickered along the outer logs, send-
ing out little jets of smoke and sparks, but the centre
of the fire had settled into a steady red glow. The
warmth came through our boots; there was a slight
smell of scorching cloth among the blended smells
of horse-blankets and pipe-smoke and balsam.
Behind us the tarpaulins lay stiff with frost over
the piles of harness. The tents were pitched; the
day was done.

Beyond the firelight, beyond the darkness, be-
yond the faint white line of peaks, a pale green
curtain was drawn across the northern sky in chang-
ing, vibrant folds. We sat quietly in the quiet of a
September night, and listened to a rustling silence
in the heart of the Cassiar.