The rush of wings sounded high in air as wild ducks passed in swift flight on their yearly pilgrimage to the south. Occasionally a flock would lower in gradually narrowing circles to land with a splash in the restful waters of the lake, then to stretch tired wings, the while bobbing their heads and quacking contentedly. Flocks of geese passed in wedge-shaped formation, their honking coming faintly from a dizzy height. A flock of Arctic swans, skimming so low that the crisp rustle of their wings could be heard, landed in the centre of the lake with a great commotion. There with their beautiful necks proudly arched they floated like white ghosts throughout the night. The red and yellow leaves, like gaudy curtains draped the deciduous trees. The wild crab-apple and high-bush cranberry hung frozen on the naked branches. The sun was surrounded by a ring and shone weakly through a misty haze. The unmistakable breath of the north wind was in the air.
Old John took his traps down from the loft and oiled them. A patch was found needed on a worn moccasin, and new laces were inserted in his snowshoes. “Winter’s comin’, ol’ timer, and we’re goin’ to have a heavy fall of snow,” he mused to himself. For two days Nature gave warning, then on the second night the storm came.
A roaring wind came bellowing from the north, lashing the waters of the lake to foam, tearing at Donald’s cabin with the strength of invisible giant hands, and howling through the forest with shrieking wails. Gust came upon gust with increasing strength, and in the short lulls could be heard the swish of the sleety snow against the windows.
The big trees creaked as they swayed in the gale, and with a loud groan, as if in mortal pain, a huge forest monarch, as its roots gave way, fell crushing down the smaller trees to smite the earth with a resounding crash.
The wind went down through the night, but the snow fell steadily. When Donald opened his door next morning he looked out on a new world. The wizardry of frost and snow had given the earth a blanket of white that was eye-blinding in its brilliancy under the bright morning sun. The keen frost had locked the lake tight under a coating of clear ice.
With a fond hope that he would receive word of the Wainwrights, Donald eagerly awaited the coming of each mail; but after a month of disappointment he became less sanguine, and threw himself desperately into work in a vain attempt to allay his heartache.