Here the sunlight streamed and danced and quivered on
the warm rocks; there deep purple cloud shadows rested for hours, as if
asleep, or swept over the mountain side in an endless game of
fox-and-geese with the sunbeams. Here the birds trilled, the bees hummed
in the bluebells, the brook roared and sang on its way to the sea; while
over all the harmony of the world brooded a silence too great to be
disturbed. Sunlight and shadow, snow and ice, gloomy ravines and
dazzling mountain tops, mayflowers and singing birds and rustling winds
filled all the earth with color and movement and melody. From under
their very feet great masses of rock, tossed and tumbled as by a giant's
play, stretched downwards to where the green woods began and rolled in
vast billows to the harbor, which shone and sparkled in the sun, yet
seemed no bigger than their mother's paw. Fishing-boats with shining
sails hovered over it, like dragon-flies, going and coming from the
little houses that sheltered together under the opposite mountain, like
a cluster of gray toadstools by a towering pine stump. Most wonderful,
most interesting of all was the little gray hut on the shore, almost
under their feet, where little Noel and the Indian children played with
the tide like fiddler crabs, or pushed bravely out to meet the fishermen
in a bobbing nutshell.
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