The blaze burned down rapidly.

Then the stars blinked.

Arizona stars would be moons in any other State! How serene, peaceful, august, infinite and wonderfully bright! No breeze stirred the pines.

The clear tinkle of the cowbells on the hobbled horses rang from near and distant parts of the forest.
The prosaic bell of the meadow and the pasture brook, here, in this environment, jingled out different notes, as clear, sweet, musical as silver bells..