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It appeared, too, that there was a curious stillness. The house was, usually, quiet enough at this hour: the inhabitants of that place were in no mood for bustle: but now it was more than quiet; it was deathly still: it was such a hush as precedes the sudden crash of the sky's artillery.
Tamalpais, a sturdy sentinel looking out to the ocean, its summit pressed against the sky's blue canopy and its base lost in a network of purple forests. In front of the Golden Gate was Alcatraz Island, like a huge dismantled warship, guarding the entrance to the bay, and before us, San Francisco rested upon undulating hills, its tall buildings piercing the sky at irregular intervals.
Nothing was more natural than that the movies should seek such an actor, and they set the trap with attractive bait. "Come over to us," they said, "and we'll let you do anything you want. Outside of poison gas and actual murder, the sky's the limit." Without even waiting to kick off his shoes, "Doug" Fairbanks made a dive. The movie magnates got what they wanted, and Fairbanks got what he wanted.
"Starlight," she murmured, "starbright, very first star I see to-night, wish I may, wish I might . . ." "Sky's full of stars," said Thomas. "Do you know what I wished?" "Do I?" "Don't you?" He looked at her in silence; awkwardly, then, she drew him down, until her lips brushed his cheek. "Look at Elsie," she murmured. "Did you ever?"
Never had Courtier so bitterly wanted the sky's consolation the blessed sense of insignificance in the face of the night's dark beauty, which, dwarfing all petty rage and hunger, made men part of its majesty, exalted them to a sense of greatness.
At the time when the shadow of night began to seize us in its greatness a wind arose, a wind which shook the desiccated creature, and he emptied himself of a mass of mold and dust. One saw the sky's whirlwind, dark and disheveled, in the place where the man had been; the soldier was carried away by the wind and buried in the sky.
It had a significance which the audience were not slow to appreciate, and went far to turn "The Sunburst Trail" at this point into a comedy-farce. When this new dialogue began, O'Ryan could scarcely trust his ears, or realise what was happening. "Ah, look," said Dicky Fergus at the fire, "as fine a night as ever I saw in the West! The sky's a picture.
I shut my eyes, bemused, and think of a bygone merry-making; and I remember that I once saw, at the end of a hunt, against the operatic background of a forest, a child-animal whose life gushed out amid general delight. A voice is speaking beside me. No doubt the moon has come out I cannot see as high as the cloud escarpments, as high as the sky's opening.
"And danger there is, chief," returns the other. "Look yonder!" He points to the level line between earth and sky, in the direction towards which they are travelling. "Do you not see something?" "No, nothing." "Not that brown-coloured stripe just showing along the sky's edge, low, as if it rested on the ground?" "Ah, yes; I see that. Only a little mist over the river, I should say."
Mary's has got some awful nice, green grass, an' the sky's an awful purty blue jest about the color uh my blue silk waist. But yuh can't expect t' have grass an' sky like that in the winter, an' this is more of a winter pitcher. It looks awful cold an' lonesome, somehow, an' it makes yuh want t' cry, if yuh look at it long enough."
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