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Updated: May 9, 2025
Somewhere near, on an open level, the funeral pile has been built of pine-logs, with the interstices stuffed with pitch, brushwood, or other inflammable material. It is natural that the pyre should take the shape of an altar and that cypress branches should lean against the sides.
And thus the winter slipped away and blue-birds dipped again in the spring beyond the corral. And again alfalfa perfumed the alkaline dust that followed the birds into the Reserve; and then again, frost laid waste the struggling gardens of high altitudes; and for another winter Doug followed traps, varying the monotony by getting out pine-logs for his ranch house.
An Indian name was discovered, and considered much more romantic and appropriate. You will look in vain for Bytown on the map now. Nor will you find the old saw-mill there any longer, wasting a vast water-power to turn its dripping wheel and cut up a few pine-logs into fragrant boards.
She was utterly blown, and her master was little better. They stood together on that hillside and rested. Now the man had a full view of the river below, and he realized the jump that the mare had made. And, further down, he beheld an astonishing sight. At a point where the course of the river narrowed, a rough bridge of pine-logs had been thrown across it.
"This is my sanctum," he said, at last, opening a door down a corridor, and we went into a large room with a lower ceiling than the rest of the apartments I had been into. It is panelled with cedar-wood also and sparely hung with old prints. A delicious smell of burning pine-logs again greeted me. The thick, silk curtains were drawn. The lamps were softly shaded.
With a great fire of pine-logs to protect them against the rigour of the night for the thermometer marked twelve degrees below freezing-point our travellers passed the hours of darkness. When the sun rose, they too arose; and it was well to do so, as sunrise from a mountain top is such a spectacle of glory as few eyes have the happiness to look upon.
A fire of snapping pine-logs blazed in the big English hearth, and a faint aromatic fragrance crept into the room.
We piled immense pine-logs upon the fire, in addition to bundles of spruce branches; these made a blaze 20 feet high, and would form a beacon as a guide in the dark night.
Gathering round the blazing pine-logs, they recount to one another in low voices the ancient legends of dead and gone heroes, and listening to the yell of the storm-wind round their huts, they still fancy they hear the wild war-cries of the Valkyries rushing past air full gallop on their coal-black steeds, with their long hair floating behind them.
On the southern slope of the pass we met with many large caravans of donkeys, dragging down pine-logs to serve as poles in the proposed extension of the telegraph-line from Su-Chou to Urumtsi. In June of this year the following item appeared in the newspapers: “Within a few months Peking will be united by wire with St.
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