"Some day we'll get him, as shore as the sun rises an' sets,"
said Shif'less Sol, repeating Henry's prediction.
But for the present they "holed up," and now their foresight was
justified. To such as they, used to the hardships of forest
life, "The Alcove" was a cheery nest. From its door they watched
the wild fowl streaming south, pigeons, ducks, and others
outlined against the dark, wintry skies. So numerous were these
flocks that there was scarcely a time when they did not see one
passing toward the warm South.
Shif'less Sol and Paul sat together watching a great flock of
wild geese, arrow shaped, and flying at almost incredible speed.
A few faint honks came to them, and then the geese grew misty on
the horizon. Shif'less Sol followed them with serious eyes.
"Do you ever think, Paul," he said, "that we human bein's ain't
so mighty pow'ful ez we think we are. We kin walk on the groun',
an' by hard learnin' an' hard work we kin paddle through the
water a little. But jest look at them geese flyin' a mile high,
right over everything, rivers, forests any mountains, makin' a
hundred miles an hour, almost without flappin' a wing. Then they
kin come down on the water an' float fur hours without bein'
tired, an' they kin waddle along on the groun', too.
Pages:
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367