Beech-trees, maples, aspens, overtopped by lofty pines, made dense shade over a brook where trout splashed on the brown, swirling current, and leaves drifted down, and stray flecks of golden sunlight lightened the gloom.

Here was hard riding to and fro across the brook, between huge mossy boulders, and between aspens so close together that Helen could scarce squeeze her knees through.
Once more Roy climbed out of that canuon, over a ridge into another, down long wooded slopes and through scrub-oak thickets, on and on till the sun stood straight overhead.

Then he halted for a short rest, unsaddled the horses to let them roll, and gave the girls some cold lunch that he had packed.

He strolled off with his gun, and, upon returning, resaddled and gave the word to start.
That was the last of rest and easy traveling for the girls.

The forest that he struck into seemed ribbed like a washboard with deep ravines so steep of slope as to make precarious travel.