res, and was
partially covered by low copses of fir. Seeing nothing of the sheep
there, we followed the fences around, then looked in several openings
which, like bays, or fiords, extended up into the southerly border of
the "great woods." And all the while Tom, who was bred on a farm and
habituated to the local dialect concerning sheep, was calling, "Co'day,
co'day, co'nanny, co'nan." But no answering ba-a-a was heard.

"They are not here," Addison exclaimed at length. "The whole flock has
gone off somewheres."

"Most likely to 'Dunham's open,'" said Tom, "and that's two miles; but I
know the way. Come on. We've got to get them."

We set off at a run, following Thomas along a trail through the forest
across the upper valley of the Robbins Brook, but had not gone more than
a mile when the storm came on, not large snowflakes, but thick and
fine, driven by wind. It came with a sudden darkening of the woods and
a strange deep sound, not the roar of a shower, but like a vast
elemental sigh from all the surrounding hills and mountains. The wind
rumbled in the high, bare tree-tops and the icy pellets sifted down
through the bare branches and rattled inclemently on the great beds of
dry leaves.

"Shall we go back?" exclaimed Halse.

"No, no; come on!" Thomas exclaimed. "We've got to get those sheep in
to-night."

We ran on; but the forest grew dim and obscure. "I think we have gone
wrong," Addison said. "I 'most think we have," Thomas admitted. "I ought
to have taken that other path, away back there." He turned and ran back,
and we followed to where another forest path branched easterly; and
here, making a fresh start, we hastened on again for fifteen or twenty
minutes.

"Oughtn't we to be pretty near Dunham's open?" demanded Addison.

"Oh, I guess we will come to it," replied Tom. "It is quite a good bit
to go."

Thereupon we ran on again for some time, and crossed two brooks. By this
time the storm had grown so blindingly thick that we could see but a few
yards in any direction. Still we ran on; but not long after, we came
suddenly on the brink of a deep gorge which opened out to the left on a
wide, white, frozen pond. Below us a large brook was plunging down the
"apron" of a log dam.

Thomas now pulled up short, in bewilderment. Addison laughed. "Do you
know where you are?" said he. "Tom, that is Stoss Pond and Stoss Pond
stream. There's the log dam and the old camp where Adger's gang cut
spruce last winter. I