Gay flowers perfumed the fresh, high winds, and rank mosses grew and twined, and hung thickly upon old stones and logs and roadside banks, where the mountain sloped steeply.

Far above were the tops of those tall, sentinel trees, called, by Vermonters, the Procession of Pines, the tower above their lesser comrades two by two, regular, solemn, and dark against the sky for miles of forest-track.

Between these were patches and glimpses of a sky without a cloud.

Gypsy had seen it all many times before; but it was always new and grand to her; it always made the blood leap in her veins and the stars twinkle in her eyes, and set her happy heart to dreaming a world of pleasant dreams.
She was leaning back against the wagon-seat, with her face upturned, to watch the leaves flutter in the distant forest-top, when Mr.Surly reined up suddenly, and the wagon stopped with a jerk.
"I declare!" said Mr.Guy Hallam.
"Waal, this is sum'at of a fix neow," said Mr.Surly, climbing out over the wheel.
"What's the matter ?" asked Gypsy and Sarah, in one breath, jumping up to see.
"Matter enough," said Tom.
For, turning a sharp corner just ahead of them, was a huge wood-cart, drawn by two struggling horses.

The road was just wide enough for one vehicle; where their wagon stood, it would have been simply impossible to place two abreast.