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The heavy odors of wild honeysuckle, syringa, and ceanothus that hung over it were lightened and freshened by the sharp spicing of pine and bay. The mountain breeze which sometimes shook the serrated tops of the large redwoods above with a chill from the remote snow peaks even in the heart of summer, never reached the little valley. It seemed an ideal place for a picnic.
She was shorn, and disgraced, and disillusioned, and unspeakably weary of body and soul. They travelled through dense forests of redwoods and pine, only the soft footfalls of the unshod mustang or the sudden cry of the wild-cat breaking the primeval silence. It was night when Doña Brígida abruptly dismounted, dragging Pilar with her.
He was all ears. Bryce pointed sternly across the clearing, and the Colonel promptly abandoned his refuge and retreated hastily in the direction indicated. The heir to Cardigan's Redwoods bent over the girl. "You spoke to me after your promise not to, Shirley," he said gently. "You will always speak to me." She commenced to cry softly. "I loathe you," she sobbed.
Gentle breezes from the purple canoñs floated by me laden with the scent of redwoods, and by the roadside the clumps of laurel gave out their vigourous perfume as their branches were stirred; then in the quietness of the air between these breaths, the steaming earth yielded to my grateful sense its own peculiar and rich odour.
Libocedrus, on the other hand, appears to have cast in its lot with the Sequoias. Two species, according to Heer, were with them in Spitzbergen. L. decurrens, the incense cedar, is one of the noblest associates of the present redwoods. But all the rest are in the southern hemisphere, two at the southern extremity of the Andes, two in the South-Sea Islands.
For him she would let slip between the leaves golden shafts of sunlight that fell just within his grasp; she would send wandering breezes to visit him with the balm of bay and resinous gum; to him the tall redwoods nodded familiarly and sleepily, the bumblebees buzzed, and the rooks cawed a slumbrous accompaniment. Such was the golden summer of Roaring Camp.
They rise heavenward to the sparkling crested pinnacles where Bret Harte's poet fancy sees in long years after the "minarets of snow." Valley oaks give way to the stately pines. Olive masses of enormous redwoods wrap the rising foot-hills. Groves of laurel, acorn oak, and madrona shelter the clinging panther and the grim warden of the Sierras, the ferocious grizzly bear.
The rain dripped and dripped from the redwoods, the room in which they stood was in twilight, even at noon. Peter could think of nothing to say. About two weeks after the accident there was a change in the tone of the physicians who had been giving almost all their time to Martin's case.
"Too hot," was Saxon's verdict, as she gazed across the shimmering level of the vast Sacramento Valley. "No redwoods. No hills. No forests. No manzanita. No madronos. Lonely, and sad " "An' like the river islands," Billy interpolated. "Richer in hell, but looks too much like hard work.
I'll show you what'll make your hair stand up... soon as we get through this manzanita." Never, in all their travels, had Saxon seen so lovely a vista as the one that greeted them when they emerged. The dim trail lay like a rambling red shadow cast on the soft forest floor by the great redwoods and over-arching oaks.
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