Sometimes, we would have it
it was like a sea, but it was not various enough for that; and
again, we thought it like the roar of a cataract, but it was too
changeful for the cataract; and then we would decide, speaking in
sleepy voices, that it could be compared with nothing but itself.
My mind was entirely preoccupied by the noise. I hearkened to it
by the hour, gapingly hearkened, and let my cigarette go out.
Sometimes the wind would make a sally nearer hand, and send a
shrill, whistling crash among the foliage on our side of the glen;
and sometimes a back-draught would strike into the elbow where we
sat, and cast the gravel and torn leaves into our faces. But for
the most part, this great, streaming gale passed unweariedly by us
into Napa Valley, not two hundred yards away, visible by the
tossing boughs, stunningly audible, and yet not moving a hair upon
our heads. So it blew all night long while I was writing up my
journal, and after we were in bed, under a cloudless, starset
heaven; and so it was blowing still next morning when we rose.
It was a laughable thought to us, what had become of our cheerful,
wandering Hebrews. We could not suppose they had reached a
destination. The meanest boy could lead them miles out of their
way to see a gopher-hole. Boys, we felt to be their special
danger; none others were of that exact pitch of cheerful
irrelevancy to exercise a kindred sway upon their minds: but
before the attractions of a boy their most settled resolutions
would be war.
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