He stood on a narrow beach by a fair-sized lake. It was ugly to look
upon, because it was almost entirely covered with an ice-crust that was
blackened and uneven and full of cracks and holes--as spring ice
generally is.
The ice was already breaking up. It was loose and floating and had a
broad belt of dark, shiny water all around it; but there was still
enough of it left to spread chill and winter terror over the place.
On the other side of the lake there appeared to be an open and light
country, but where the geese had lighted there was a thick pine-growth.
It looked as if the forest of firs and pines had the power to bind the
winter to itself. Everywhere else the ground was bare; but beneath the
sharp pine-branches lay snow that had been melting and freezing, melting
and freezing, until it was hard as ice.
The boy thought he had struck an arctic wilderness, and he was so
miserable that he wanted to scream. He was hungry too. He hadn't eaten a
bite the whole day. But where should he find any food? Nothing eatable
grew on either ground or tree in the month of March.
Yes, where was he to find food, and who would give him shelter, and who
would fix his bed, and who would protect him from the wild beasts?
For now the sun was away and frost came from the lake, and darkness sank
down from heaven, and terror stole forward on the twilight's trail, and
in the forest it began to patter and rustle.
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