More than one snow bank showed white through the green, sheltered on the north slopes of shady ravines.

And it was upon entering this zone of richer, deeper forestland that Jean sloughed off his gloomy forebodings.

These stately pines were not the giant firs of Oregon, but any lover of the woods could be happy under them.

Higher still he climbed until the forest spread before and around him like a level park, with thicketed ravines here and there on each side.

And presently that deceitful level led to a higher bench upon which the pines towered, and were matched by beautiful trees he took for spruce.