Alton of Somasco by Harold Bindloss

There was frost in the valley when one clear morning Alton lay partly dressed in a big chair beside the stove at Somasco ranch. Outside the snow lay white on the clearing, and the great pines rose above it sombre and motionless under the sunlight that had no warmth in it, while the peaks beyond them shone with a silvery lustre against the cloudless blue. It was a day to set the blood stirring and rouse the vigour of the strong, and Alton felt the effect of it as he lay listening to the rhythmic humming of the saws. The sound spoke of activity, and raising himself a trifle in his chair he glanced at his partner with a faint sparkle in his eye.

"It's good to feel alive again," he said.