The trail under the hoofs of the horse was scarcely perceptible to him, and he seemed lost in a dense, gray, soundless obscurity.
Suddenly Wade emerged from out the fog into brilliant sunshine.

In amaze he halted.

This phenomenon was new to him.

He was high up on the mountain-side, the summit of which rose clear-cut and bold into the sky.
Below him spread what resembled a white sea.

It was an immense cloud-bank, filling all the valleys as if with creamy foam or snow, soft, thick, motionless, contrasting vividly with the blue sky above.
Old White Slides stood out, gray and bleak and brilliant, as if it were an island rock in a rolling sea of fleece.