Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 25, 2025
The lodgepole, he is like the man who runs up and looks on when the crowd, eet gathers about some one who has been hurt. He waits until there had been a fire, and then he comes in and grows first, along with the aspens, so he can get all the room he wants. The spruce, he is like a woman, yes, oui. He looks better than the rest but he is not. Sometime, he is not so good. Whoa!"
Ba'tiste, suddenly serious, turned away into the woods, to go slowly from tree to tree, to dig at them with his knife, to squint and stare, to shin a few feet up a trunk now and then, examining every protuberance, every round, bulbous scar. At last he shouted, and Houston hurried to him, to find the giant digging excitedly at a lodgepole. "I have foun' another!"
The train takes a swift swirl round an escarpment of the mountain; and you are in the Forests proper, serried rank upon rank of the blue spruce and the lodgepole pine. No longer spangles of light hitting back from the rocks in sparks of fire!
But, once upon the bench and free to look about him toward the steep slope of the crater's outer walls, he was dismayed at the unexpected change in the landscape. On the rocky slopes there had once stood a dense thicket of lodgepole pine, slender and close, through which a trail had been cut.
In the low country the drifts lay only in the gulches and the more sheltered spots but up in the lodgepole valleys and the heavy stands of spruce on the slopes the white covering seemed endless and unbroken. The dogs killed the meat for the whole pack, for at this season the she-coyotes were unfitted for the strenuous work of pulling down heavy game.
Forests of spruce and lodgepole were dark with shadow. A beaver colony returned to its former haunts at the foot of Long's Peak and was working night and day. Its pond of still water was glazing over with clear ice. October came. The nights grew colder. The snow of early winter came to the high peaks, dusting their bare, bald crowns. "Fur ought to be getting prime now," the Parson said one day.
Some of the onlookers were railroad men, off duty; some were cow hands from nearby ranches; a few Indians from the reservation beyond the willow-fringed Lodgepole Creek, lent their stoical presence, while several soldiers from the newly christened Fort Warren with or without official sanction, were on hand to witness the setup.
Still higher up the sallow forest of lodgepole pines began; and above these, beyond the timberline, rose the bald summit itself. They were big men, framed for such a country, defying the roughness with a roughness of their own these stalwart sons of old Bill Campbell.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking