He was thinking of an interminable romance, translated from the French of a certain Mademoiselle de Scudery, which his teacher, Mr.Pennypacker, had among his possessions, and which he had once secretly shown to Paul, who was his favorite pupil.

But he added, resignedly: "You'd never find a book in all this region up here, Sol.

We'd better make up our minds to some monotonous days." Shif'less Sol had been leaning lazily against a heap of firewood, and suddenly he sat up with a look of interest in his eyes.

His acute ear had detected a sound on the hill above them--a faint crunching in the snow.
"It's one o' the boys, I s'pose," he said.

"Now, I wonder what he wants to be tramping around in the deep snow up thar fur." "Yes, I hear him," said Paul, "and he's lumbering about queerly." "He's comin' down toward the house," said Shif'less Sol.