The bare woods were filled with the tangled rays of light from the setting sun.

Here and there a hillside facing the east lay in shadow that grew black where the balsams and cedars stood in clumps.

But everywhere else the light fell sweet and silent about the bare trunks, filling the long avenues under the arching maple limbs with a yellow haze.
In front of the shanty the kettles hung over the fire on a long pole which stood in an upright crutch at either end.

Under the big kettle the fire was roaring high, for the fresh sap needed much boiling before the syrup and taffy could come.

But under the little kettle the fire burned low, for that must not be hurried.
Over the fire and the kettles Ranald presided, black, grimy, and silent, and to Don fell the duty of doing the honors of the camp; and right worthily did he do his part.