trees. They rode close to the edge of sheer precipices four hundred
feet down, with trout-brooks, like silver threads, winding through the
gorges. Great walls of rock rose above and around them, and seemed to shut
them in with a frown. Sharp turns in the road brought them suddenly to the
edge of abysses from which, in dark nights, they might have easily ridden
off. Gay flowers perfumed the fresh, high winds, and rank mosses grew and
twined, and hung thickly upon old stones and logs and roadside banks,
where the mountain sloped steeply. Far above were the tops of those tall,
sentinel trees, called, by Vermonters, the Procession of Pines, the tower
above their lesser comrades two by two, regular, solemn, and dark against
the sky for miles of forest-track. Between these were patches and glimpses
of a sky without a cloud. Gypsy had seen it all many times before; but it
was always new and grand to her; it always made the blood leap in her
veins and the stars twinkle in her eyes, and set her happy heart to
dreaming a world of pleasant dreams.

She was leaning back against the wagon-seat, with her face upturned, to
watch the leaves flutter in the distant forest-top, when Mr. Surly reined
up suddenly, and the wagon stopped with a jerk.

"I declare!" said Mr. Guy Hallam.

"Waal, this is sum'at of a fix neow," said Mr. Surly, climbing out over
the wheel.

"What's the matter?" asked Gypsy and Sarah, in one breath, jumping up to
see.

"Matter enough," said Tom.

For, turning a sharp corner just ahead of them, was a huge wood-cart,
drawn by two struggling horses. The road was just wide enough for one
vehicle; where their wagon stood, it would have been simply impossible to
place two abreast. At their right, the wooded slope rose like a wall. At
their left, a gorge two hundred feet deep yawned horribly, and the
trout-brook gurgled over its stones.

"You hold on there," shouted the driver of the wood-cart; "I'll turn in
here anigh the mountain. You ken git by t'other side, can't you?"

"Reckon so," said Mr. Surly, measuring the distance with his eye. He
climbed in again, and took the reins, and the driver of the wood-cart
wheeled up into a semi-circular widening of the road where a sand-heap had
been dug away. The space left was just wide enough for a carriage to pass
closely without grazing the wheels of the wood-cart, or the low log which
formed the only fence on the edge of the ravine.

"Oh, we shall certainly tip over a