The trail led out over open grassy shores, with a few pines straggling down to the lake, and clumps of spruces raising dark blurs against the background of gleaming lake.
Wade heard a sharp crack of hoofs on rock, and he knew he had disturbed deer at their drinking; also he heard a ring of horns on the branch of a tree, and was sure an elk was slipping off through the woods.

Across the lake he saw a camp-fire and a pale, sharp-pointed object that was a trapper's tent or an Indian's tepee.
Selecting a camp-site for himself, he unsaddled his horse, threw the pack off the other, and, hobbling both animals, he turned them loose.
His roll of bedding, roped in canvas tarpaulin, he threw under a spruce-tree.

Then he opened his oxhide-covered packs and laid out utensils and bags, little and big.

All his movements were methodical, yet swift, accurate, habitual.

He was not thinking about what he was doing.