"Granny," said Solomon suddenly.
"Waal, sonny?" said his grandmother.
When the eyes of the family group were fixed upon him, Solomon's courage failed.
"Nothin'," he said hastily. "Nothin' at all."
"Why, what ails the boy?" exclaimed his mother.
"I tell ye now, Solomon," said his grandmother, with an emphatic nod, "ye hed better respec' yer elders,—an' a sign in the house!"
Solomon slept little that night. Toward day he began to dream of the warping-bars. They seemed to develop suddenly into an immense animated monster, from which he only escaped by waking with a sudden start.
Then he found that a great white morning, full of snow, was breaking upon the black night. And what a world it was now! The mountain was graced with a soft white drapery; on every open space there were vague suggestions of delicate colors: in this hollow lay a tender purple shadow; on that steep slope was an elusive roseate flush, and when you looked again, it was gone, and the glare was blinding.
The bare black branches of the trees formed strangely interlaced hieroglyphics upon the turquoise sky. The crags were dark and grim, despite their snowy crests and the gigantic glittering icicles that here and there depended from them. A cascade, close by in the gorge, had been stricken motionless and dumb, as if by a sudden spell; and still and silent, it sparkled in the sun.
The snow lay deep on the roof of the log cabin, and the eaves were decorated with shining icicles. The enchantment had followed the zigzag lines of the fence, and on every rail was its embellishing touch.