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The hour of the evening meal had come and gone; the buzz-saws had ceased to whirr and sing and the anvil hammers to ring through the still, hot air. The sun had left his perch overhead, and was sinking slowly towards the horizon, making the trees and houses throw long streaks and patches of shadow of soft purple-blue, which is so peculiarly Australian, across the yellow dust of the roadway.
His eyes constantly searched the misty purple-blue horizon for a first glimpse of the mountains, though he knew he could not possibly come in sight of them so soon. He rode steadily till the sun was overhead, when he stopped to let the pony rest and feed. He had a scanty lunch in his pocket, which he ate without water.
These were times when he did not have to consider sharing the right of way with a rival, and he was availing himself of his undisputed respite. Shadows of deep purple-blue lay everywhere like velvet islands in the silver flood of the moon's radiance.
It grows stout and bushy, often in favoured places rising to the height of 12 feet, and has large clusters of purple-blue flowers that are succeeded by small, white berries. This is a decidedly ornamental shrub, that should be cultivated wherever a suitable place can be spared. It bears hard pruning back with impunity, and succeeds in any light, rich, loamy soil.
Broad white curtains of the frost-fog looped around the lower sky, on the verge of hill and valley, and above the laden trees. Only round the sun himself, and the spot of heaven he claimed, clustered a bright purple-blue, clear, and calm, and deep. That night such a frost ensued as we had never dreamed of, neither read in ancient books, or histories of Frobisher.
Here he undressed and a minute later was swimming straight out to sea. The level rays of the sun were doing to the water just what the headlights of the motors had done to the road; they were enlarging every ripple and edging the deep purple-blue with yellow light. Except for a fishing dory chunking out to its day's work, Ben had the sea and land to himself.
Within sight of the land, the purple-blue Gulf Stream, a mystic warm river a half mile deep, thousands of miles long, traveling ever at a speed of eighty miles a day through the depth of the ocean, as distinct and as unswerving from its chosen course as though it flowed through land instead of through shifting water.
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