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Updated: May 22, 2025
Always, when he was moved, David turned to his violin. Always in its quivering strings he found the means to say that which his tongue could not express. Across the valley the grays and blues of the mountains had become all purples now. Above, the sky in one vast flame of crimson and gold, was a molten sea on which floated rose-pink cloud-boats.
As the sky clears and grows blue and deep and unfathomably peaceful after a storm, as trees wind-riven straighten and nod graciously to the little cloud-boats that sail the blue above, and wave dainty finger-tips of branches in bon voyage, so did the Peaceful Hart ranch, when the dust had settled after the latest departure and the whistle of the train which bore the coroner and that other quiet passenger came faintly down over the rim-rock, settle with a sigh of relief into its old, easy habits of life.
I like it here, and I've always been here." "Not always, David; six years. You were four when I brought you here. You don't remember, perhaps." David shook his head. His eyes were again dreamily fixed on the sky. "I think I'd like it to go if I could sail away on that little cloud-boat up there," he murmured. The man sighed and shook his head. "We can't go on cloud-boats.
But the sun still set in rose and gold, and the sky, though small, still carried the snowy sails of its cloud-boats; while as to his father his father had told him not to grieve, and David was trying very hard to obey. With his violin for company David started out each day, unless he elected to stay indoors with his books.
He declared that 't was God's present, anyhow, that trees was; an' that the things He give us ter look at was jest as much use as the things He give us ter eat; an' that the stars an' the sunsets an' the snowflakes an' the little white cloud-boats, an' I don't know what-all, was jest as important in the Orchestra of Life as turnips an' squashes.
"'Oh, a ten-dollar hoss and a forty-dollar saddle' that's you Blue. You don't amount to nothing nohow, doing jackrabbit stunts like that when I'm not looking! 'Coma ti yi youpy, youpy-a." She watched a cloud shadow sweep like a great bird over a sunny slope and murmured while she watched: "Cloud-boats sailing sunny seas is that original, or have I cribbed it from some honest-to-goodness poet?
"And up on the mountain I had them always. There was the sunrise, and the sunset, and the moon and the stars, and my Silver Lake, and the cloud-boats that sailed " But Mrs. Holly, with a vexed gesture, stopped him. "Never mind, little boy. I might have known brought up as you have been. Of course you could not appreciate such things as these. Throw them away, indeed!"
"Did you like it what I played? And did you know what I was playing? Did you understand? Could you see the cloud-boats up in the sky, and my Silver Lake down in the valley? And could you hear the birds, and the winds in the trees, and the little brooks? Could you? Oh, did you understand? I've so wanted to find some one that could!
But David did not play what he did before at first. There were no airy cloud-boats, no far-reaching sky, no birds, or murmuring forest brooks in his music this time. There were only the poverty-stricken room, the dirty street, the boy alone at the window, with his sightless eyes the boy who never, never would know what a beautiful world he lived in. Then suddenly to David came a new thought.
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