They jumped up and climbed the bank, while I perched on the she-oak roots over the water to be out of sight as they passed.
The night wind sighed a soothing lullaby through the spines of the she-oak, and his spirit passed peacefully away with the ebb.
The wind whistled dismally through the she-oak trees in the scrub and moaned along the valley.
It was not a cheerful night, for the wind had risen, and was moaning among the she-oak trees like a million lost spirits.
Near the head of the river, on the point, was a plantation of she-oak.