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I have been sitting here for half an hour." MacRae sat down beside her. His heart seemed to be trying to choke him. He did not know where to begin, or how, and there was much he wanted to say that he must say. Betty did not even take her chin out of her palms. She stared out at the sea, rolling up to Squitty in silver windrows.
"Do they all think we're goin' huntin'?" asked Jimmie, as the windrows of salt water heaped up by the transport grew smaller and lapped on the beach. "Sure they do," replied Jack. "Do you think the Major told them we were going into the jungles to catch a few recruits for the federal prison at Manila? Nice thing, that would be!"
But on the 18th of June a gale began to blow from the southwest, and the sargasso was dispersed again in windrows and lanes. On this day there was soon wind enough and to spare. The same might have been said of the sea The Spray was in the midst of the turbulent Gulf Stream itself. She was jumping like a porpoise over the uneasy waves.
As for moraines, we have them in plenty; only the windrows of thousands upon thousands of tiny seeds of which they are composed, are not permanent, but change their form and position with every strong gust of wind. And with every gust too their numbers increase, the harvest of the weeds being garnered here, upon barren ground.
In the first mead they were already loading hay, the women raking it into cocks and windrows, and the men tossing it upon the waggon. From behind the waggon a bright scarlet spot emerged, and went on loading unconcernedly with the rest.
The waters of the classic Ilm are sluggish and slimy in places, and in places clear and brooklike, but always a dull dark green in color. They flow in the shadow of pensive trees, and by the brinks of sunny meadows, where the after-math wanders in heavy windrows, and the children sport joyously over the smooth-mown surfaces in all the freedom that there is in Germany.
Every day and night the tide ebbed and flowed, and every tide left its contribution in windrows of dead herring and caplin, with scattered crabs and mussels for a relish, like plums in a pudding. A wolf had only to trot for a mile or two along the tide line of a lonely beach, picking up the good things which the sea had brought him, and then go back to sleep or play satisfied.
Then another great thaw came, and the fickle climate proceeded to show what it could do. When the thaw had been going on for a day and a night a terrific winter hurricane broke over the forest. Trees were shattered as if their trunks had been shot through by huge cannon balls. Here and there long windrows were piled up, and vast areas were a litter of broken boughs.
No one wanted many, as they were not bought at country stores, and, required as much sugar in the cooking as there were berries; so cranberry sauce was a luxury rarely indulged. Like most wild fruits they were never picked clean. When the spring thaws flooded the meadows and washed them in windrows on the shore we gathered them to eat raw and also for paint.
We stood spellbound, gazing on a scene of unspeakable devastation! To the north, west and southeast the forest lay prone like a field of wind-swept corn. Huge oaks and pines were tossed in grotesque windrows. Here and there gnarled roots projected above the prostrate foliage. The once proud trees lay like brave soldiers; their limbs rigid in the contorted attitudes of death.
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