WHITE CLOUDS


"White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep, Light mists, whose soft
embraces keep The sunshine on the bills asleep."

The sun was just rising above the crests of a group of the White
Mountains called long ago by the indians "Waumbek" because of their
snowy foreheads. But this morning, instead of shining like crystal, the
snow at their summits was opal tinted rose, yellow and violet from the
early rays of the June sun.

Sunrise Hill, standing in the foreground, seemed to catch an even
stronger reflection from the sky, for the colors drained down its sides
until they emptied into a small, wooded lake at its base.

On either side this hill the sloping lands were a soft green and the
meadows beyond golden with the new summer grain, but only fifty yards
away a grove of pine trees made a deep mass of shade, and with the birds
in their branches singing their daily matins, suggested an old cathedral
choir.

The singers were evidently indifferent to intruders, for, close by, four
white tents were pitched in a square as though a caravan had halted on
its travels. But the caravaneers must have been in the place for some
days and showed no intention of moving on, for their arrangements had
been made with the idea of permanent comfort.

Around each tent a narrow trench several inches deep had been dug to
prevent flooding in case of rain, farther off two large bins held all