low, downy cloudlets drifted over the sky in the early hours of the morning. dark, lowering masses followed in their wake. the snow fell in large, cold, soft, feather-like flakes.
st. martin's summer was past, to be succeeded by the advent of another earthly joy—the first white covering of snow, when it is so delicious to follow the fresh footprints of the beasts, a rifle in hand.
