And when it comes like the veil on a bride, the silver mountings on a charger's trappings, or the golden fire in a sunset, the shining crystal robe is the finishing, the crowning glory, without which all the rest must fail, could have no bright completeness.

Its beauty stirred the hunters though it found no better expression than Rolf's simple words, "Ain't it fine," while the Indian gazed in silence.
There is no other place in the eastern woods where the snow has such manifold tales to tell, and the hunters that day tramping found themselves dowered over night with the wonderful power of the hound to whom each trail is a plain record of every living creature that has passed within many hours.

And though the first day after a storm has less to tell than the second, just as the second has less than the third, there was no lack of story in the snow.

Here sped some antlered buck, trotting along while yet the white was flying.

There went a fox, sneaking across the line of march, and eying distrustfully that deadfall.