Above was the gold, shoulder and crest powdered with it, unearthly, uplifted.

Strickland ceased his fishing.

The light moved slowly upward; the trees, the crag-heads, melted into heaven; while the lower glen lay in lengths of shadow, in jade and amethyst.

A whispering breeze sprang up, cool as the water sliding by.

Strickland put up his fisherman's gear and moved homeward, down the stream.
He had a very considerable way to go.