It was light, but not yet day. The shadows of the night seemed to linger, to retreat with reluctance; and as they were beaten back by the sun, still far below the eastern curve of the earth and further blockaded by giant mountain ranges also to the eastward, the clinging, gray morning mists of early Fall came to replace them. In the pallid light, a-swim with vapor, objects loomed gigantic and grotesque. The house which stood among the mists was of squared timbers, mortised and fitted. It was unpainted, and the interstices were neatly filled with plaster. The main part was two stories in height, but back of this and joined to it was another log building, long and low. Evidently this had been…
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