There was the way at her feet-that path that coiled under the cliff and ran down loop by loop through majestic oak and poplar and masses of rhododendron. With the thought, she rose slowly to her feet, moved slowly to the cliff that dropped sheer ten feet aside from the trail, and stood there like a great scarlet flower in still air. Beyond those white mists trailing up the hills, beyond the blue smoke drifting in the valley, those limitless blue waves must run under the sun on and on to the end of the world! Her dead sister had gone into that far silence and had brought back wonderful stories of that outer world: and she began to wonder more than ever before whether she would ever go into it and see for herself what was there. It was a big world, though, that was spread before her and a vague awe of it seized her straightway and held her motionless and dreaming. So, she lay back and rested-her little mouth tightening fiercely. She had no business there now, and, if she were found out when she got back, she would get a scolding and maybe something worse from her step-mother-and all that trouble and risk for nothing but smoke. Where was the great glare of yellow light that the “circuit rider” had told about-and the leaping tongues of fire? Where was the shrieking monster that ran without horses like the wind and tossed back rolling black plumes all streaked with fire? For many days now she had heard stories of the “furriners” who had come into those hills and were doing strange things down there, and so at last she had climbed up through the dewy morning from the cove on the other side to see the wonders for herself. Beyond them was a gap in the next mountain chain and down in the little valley, just visible through it, were trailing blue mists as well, and she knew that they were smoke. The mountains ran in limitless blue waves towards the mounting sun-but at birth her eyes had opened on them as on the white mists trailing up the steeps below her. There were tiny drops along the roots of her shining hair, for the climb had been steep, and now the shadow of disappointment darkened her eyes. Her breath was still coming fast between her parted lips.
She sat at the base of the big tree-her little sunbonnet pushed back, her arms locked about her knees, her bare feet gathered under her crimson gown and her deep eyes fixed on the smoke in the valley below. So on that note, I highly recommend The Trail of the Lonesome Pine.Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team Anyway, this was a fine showcase for the Technicolor photography as kudos to director Henry Hathaway for making every scene count as this was a most entertaining drama with a couple of touching, though tragic, scenes at the end. Incidentally, while Knight sings the latter, Fonda whistles and Spanky hums and this was a couple of years before Spanky's "Our Gang" co-star Alfalfa sung part of this tune in the short The Little Ranger (which McFarland doesn't appear in).
(If anyone is familiar with me, they know my favorite movie is It's a Wonderful Life and I like noting actors in that movie in other films like Bondi and Hinds who were married in the latter) Then there's Fuzzy Knight who's a charmer as something of a Greek chorus singing songs like "Twlight on the Trail" and the Oscar-nominated "A Melody from the Sky". Also appearing were Beulah Bondi, Nigel Bruce, and Samuel Hinds as the Sheriff.
There's also a romantic rivalry between Fonda and MacMurray for Sidney. This was a compelling story of a couple of feuding families and one outsider played by MacMurray who's trying to build a railroad around both respective groups' areas.
While it had stars like Fred MacMurray, Henry Fonda, and Sylvia Sidney, the main reason I was interested in this movie was because of one Spanky McFarland, who at the time was still a member of "Our Gang". Just watched this Technicolor Paramount feature (The first of the kind that was shot outdoors) on YouTube.