"Of course we will!"
Away they went, to the westward of the camp proper, and then along a road leading up the first of the series of hills. The sun shone brightly and not a cloud showed itself in the sky. On each side of them were the long stretches of pine and spruce, many of the trees heavily laden with snow, their bottom branches hidden in the shroud that covered the ground. Not a sound broke the stillness outside of the muffled hoof-beats of the team as they moved along as swiftly as the condition of the trail permitted.
At the top of the first hill was a small clearing, and here they pulled up to take a look around. Nothing but the trees, brushwood, and snow and ice met their gaze, and when the horses stopped moving the silence became even more impressive.
"It's grand, isn't it?" was Owen's comment. "How a fellow can give this up for a stuffy life in the city is more than I can understand."
"And yet they do do it, Owen, and some of those same fellows couldn't be dragged back to this after once they are away from it."
"Well, everybody to his own fancy, Dale. But outdoor life suits me. I'd die boxed up in a big city like Boston or New York. I was down in Boston once, and when I walked through one of the narrow streets, with its big buildings, I felt just as if a hand was on my chest, squeezing the breath out of me."
"I know it, Owen. And yet, what do you think? Last year, when I was up to 'Suncook Lake, there was a machinist from Bridgeport there, and the second morning after he landed he told me he hadn't slept a wink the night before because it was too quiet! Of course, he was piling it on, but, just the same, he left for a livelier place that night."