Thorpe found the woods very different from when he had first traversed them.

They were full of patches of wet earth and of sunshine; of dark pine, looking suddenly worn, and of fresh green shoots of needles, looking deliciously springlike.

This was the contrast everywhere--stern, earnest, purposeful winter, and gay, laughing, careless spring.

It was impossible not to draw in fresh spirits with every step.
He followed the trail by the river.

Butterballs and scoters paddled up at his approach.