silence, so that involuntarily he hushed his voice in
speaking, and the deep-toned roll of the sleigh-bells seemed to smite
upon that dim, solemn quiet with startling blows. On either side
the balsams and spruces, with their mantles of snow, stood like
white-swathed sentinels on guard--silent, motionless, alert. Hughie
looked to see them move as the team drove past.

As they left the more open butternut ridge and descended into the depths
of the big pine swamp, the dim light faded into deeper gloom, and Hughie
felt as if he were in church, and an awe gathered upon him.

"It's awful still," he said to Billy Jack in a low tone, and Billy Jack,
catching the look in the boy's face, checked the light word upon his
lips, and gazed around into the deep forest glooms with new eyes. The
mystery and wonder of the forest had never struck him before. It had
hitherto been to him a place for hunting or for getting big saw-logs.
But to-day he saw it with Hughie's eyes, and felt the majesty of its
beauty and silence. For a long time they drove without a word.

"Say, it's mighty fine, isn't it?" he said, adopting Hughie's low tone.

"Splendid!" exclaimed Hughie. "My! I could just hug those big trees.
They look at me like--like your mother, don't they, or mine?" But this
was beyond Billy Jack.

"Like my mother?"

"Yes, you know, quiet and--and--kind, and nice."

"Yes," said Thomas, breaking in for the first time, "that's just it.
They do look, sure enough, like my mother and yours. They have both got
that look."

"Git-ep!" said Billy Jack to his team. "These fellows'll be ketchin'
something bad if we don't get into the open soon. Shouldn't wonder if
they've got 'em already, making out their mothers like an old white
pine. Git-ep, I say!"

"Oh, pshaw!" said Hughie, "you know what I mean."

"Not much I don't. But it don't matter so long as you're feelin' all
right. This swamp's rather bad for the groojums."

"What?" Hughie's eyes began to open wide as he glanced into the forest.

"The groojums. Never heard of them things? They ketch a fellow in places
like this when it's gettin' on towards midnight, and about daylight it's
almost as bad."

"What are they like?" asked Hughie, upon whom the spell of the forest
lay.

"Oh, mighty queer. Always crawl up on your back, and ye can't help
twistin' round."

Hughie glanced at Thomas and was at once relieved.

"Oh, pshaw! Billy Jack, you can't fool me. I know you."

"I guess you