The small outer islands of the bay were covered among the
ledges with turf that looked as fresh as the early grass; there had
been some days of rain the week before, and the darker green of the
sweet-fern was scattered on all the pasture heights. It looked
like the beginning of summer ashore, though the sheep, round and
warm in their winter wool, betrayed the season of the year as they
went feeding along the slopes in the low afternoon sunshine. Presently
the wind began to blow and we struck out seaward to double the long
sheltering headland of the cape, and when I looked back again, the
islands and the headland had run together and Dunnet Landing and
all its coasts were lost to sight.
End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of "The Country of the Pointed Firs"
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