The stumps of the trees stood up like huge charred canes.

It was a comparatively fresh "burn" of last autumn, and the ash was still soft under Baree's feet.

Straight through this black region ran the creek, and over it hung a blue sky in which the sun was shining.

It was quite inviting to Baree.

The fox, the wolf, the moose, and the caribou would have turned back from the edge of this dead country.