The sun, filtering through the snow-laden branches,
cast a subdued golden light upon the ruddy upright trunks of the trees.
At times a willow-grouse, white as the snow, light and graceful on the
wing, rose from the branch where he had been laughing to his mate with a
low, cooing laugh, and fluttered away over the trees.
"A kooropatka," said Catrina, who knew the life of the forest almost as
well as Paul, whose very existence was wrapped up in these things.
Far over the summits of the pines a snipe seemed to be wheeling a
sentinel round. He followed them as they sped along, calling out all the
while his deep warning note, like that of a lamb crouching beneath a
hedge where the wind is not tempered.
Once or twice they heard the dismal howl of a wolf--the most melancholy,
the weirdest, the most hopeless of nature's calls. The whole forest
seemed to be on the alert--astir and in suspense. The wolf, disturbed in
his lair, no doubt heard and understood the cry of the watchful snipe
and the sudden silence of the willow-grouse, who loves to sit and laugh
when all is safe. A clumsy capercailzie, swinging along over the trees
with a great flap and rush of wings, seemed to be intent on his own
solitary, majestic business--a very king among the fowls of the air.
Amid the topmost branches of the pines the wind whispered and stirred
like a child in sleep; but beneath all was still.
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