Albert Bierstadt the oregon trail

Albert Bierstadt the oregon trailSir Lawrence Alma-Tadema Caracalla and GetaFranz Marc The MonkeyFranz Marc RinderFranz Marc Rehe im Schnee
won't tell you again! Either I hear the clink of coins, or you hear a gurgle!'
In fact what they all heard was a whistling noise, high in the air, and the crash as a milk jug, its sides frosted with the ice of altitude, dropped out of the sky on to the spike atop the chief's helmet.
The remaining bandits took one look at the results, and fled.
The actors stared down at the recumbent bandit. Hwel prodded a lump of frozen milk with his boot.
'Well, 'I don't know about that. I've heard of fish and frogs and rocks,' said Hwel. 'There's nothing against crockery.' He began to rally. 'It's just one of these uncommon phenomenons.
They happen all the time in this part of the world, there's nothing unusual about it.'
They got back on to the carts and rode on in unaccustomed silence. Young Wimsloe collected every bit of jug he could find and stored them carefully in the props box, and spent the rest of the day watching the sky, hoping for a sugar basin.well,' he said weakly.'He didn't take any notice!' whispered Tomjon.'A born critic,' said the dwarf. It was a blue and white jug. Funny how little details stood out at a time like this. It had been smashed several times in the past, he could see, because the pieces had been carefully glued together again. Someone had really loved that jug.'What we're dealing with here,' he said, rallying some shreds of logic, 'is a freak whirlwind. Obviously.''But milk jugs don't just drop out of the sky,' said Tomjon, demonstrating the astonishing human art of denying the obvious.