by Nell Speed
CHAPTER XVIII
MORE FINDS
"Look!" exclaimed Lucy as they neared the camp. "Mr. Smith is flyingthis morning. I wonder who is with him. He hasn't taken me yet but hepromised to today. Please don't tell mother. She would be terriblyalarmed at the prospect."
"Oh, there's my bird!" and Tom Tit dropped his hoe and the basket ofchickens he was carrying and clasped his hands in an ecstasy of delight."See, see, how it floats! I have found it again! I have found it again!"
"Tom Tit, would you like to fly with that great bird?" asked Lucygently.
"Fly? Oh, I always dream I can fly! Can I really fly?"
"Yes, Tom Tit, if you want to I will give you my place. The birdmanpromised to take me today and I will get him to take you instead."
Tom Tit looked wonderingly and trustingly at Lucy. Mr. McRae smiled hisapproval.
"It will be an experience my boy will remember all his life."
"Spending the night at your home will be one we will remember always,too. It beat flying," and all of the wanderers agreed with her.
Mr. Tom Smith was perfectly willing to take Tom Tit on a flight if hepromised to sit still, which of course he did. The aeroplane was a greatastonishment to him and the fact that the birdman could leave the birdand talk and walk filled him with awe.
"We uns ain't never seen buzzards and eagles git out'n their wings, butthen we uns ain't never been so clost to the big ones, the ones thatsails way up in the clouds."
When they landed after a rather longer flight than Tom Smith usuallytook the would-be flyers, Tom Tit's expression was that of one who hasglimpsed the infinite. He said not a word for a moment after he foundhimself once more on terra firma, and then he turned to his old friendand whispered:
"Oh, Spring-keeper, I have found so many things that I'll never be sadagain."
The Carters, of course, gave Mr. McRae a warm welcome. They could not doenough to express their gratitude for his kindness and hospitality totheir young people. Mrs. Carter was graciousness itself to the old man,but looked rather askance at the queer figure of his companion. I wonderwhat she would have thought had she seen his pink calico trousers andhis patched shirt that he considered so beautiful. Bobby, however, wasdrawn to him immediately and treated him just as though he had beenanother little boy who had come to see him. He took his new friend tosee all of his bird houses and water wheels, and Tom Tit followed himabout with adoration in his eyes.
"We uns kin talk like you uns when we uns remembers," said Bobby.
"We uns would like to talk like Spring-keeper but always forgits,"sighed Tom Tit. "Spring-keeper used to talk just like we uns when hewas little but he's got larnin' now."
"We uns don't never want no larnin'," declared Bobby. "'Tain't no use.Josh wants to git larnin', too, but when he does he ain't goin' to be mybes' frien' no mo'. I'm a-goin' to be you bes' frien' then; I mean, weuns is."
"What's a bes' frien'? We uns ain't never found one."
"Oh, a bes' frien' is somebody you likes to be with all the time."
"Oh, then Spring-keeper is a bes' frien'."
"But he is an old man. A bes' frien' must be young."
"Then we uns'll have to take the baby fox. Will that do?"
"Oh, yes, that'll do if'n they ain't no boys around."
"We uns will keep the baby fox for one of them things until Josh gitslarnin' and then you kin be it," and Tom Tit laughed for joy.
"Is you uns ever flew?" Tom Tit asked Bobby.
"No--my mother is so skittish like, she ain't never let me. She's 'boutone of the scaredest ladies they is."
"We uns' maw is done flew away herself and she didn't mind when we unswent a bit. We uns useter think that when the men found maw they tookher and hid her in a hole in the ground. Spring-keeper done tole melots of times that she wasn't in the ground but had flew up to heaven,but we uns ain't never seed no one fly, so we uns just thought he wasa foolin'. And you see," he whispered, "Spring-keeper is kinder daffysometimes, so the folks say, and we uns has to humor him. But now--butnow--we uns done flewed away up in the air. If we uns kin fly, why mawkin do it, too. She ain't in a hole in the ground no mo'. We unsalmost saw her flyin' way up over the mountain tops."
"I'm--I mean we uns is a-goin' to come to see you. My father is goin' totake me there some day. Kin you play on the Victrola?"
"No--we uns ain't never seed one. What is it?"
"Why, it makes music."
"Oh, we uns kin play the jew's-harp."
"Gee! I wish I could--I mean we uns wishes we uns could. If you show mehow to play the jew's-harp, I'll show you how to play the Victrola. Comeon, I'll show you first while th'ain't nobody in the pavilion. You see,my sisters is some bossy an' they's always sayin' I scratch the recordsan' won't never let me play it by myself, but they is about the bossiestever. I ain't a-goin' to hurt the old records."
Tom Tit looked at the Victrola with wondering eyes while Bobby wound itup. He had seen a small organ once and the postmistress at Bear Hollowhad a piano, but this musical instrument was strange indeed.
"I'm a-gonter leave the record on that Helen's been a-playin'. I don'tknow what it is. I can't read good yet but I reckon it's somethingpretty."
It was Zimbalist playing the "Humoresque." Fancy the effect of sucha wonderful combination of sounds breaking for the first time on thesensitive ears of this mountain youth. He had heard music in the windand music in the water; the birds had sung to him and the beasts hadtalked to him; but what was this? He stood like one enchanted, his handsclasped and his lips parted. At one point in the music when the greatartist was evidently putting his whole soul in it, Tom Tit began to sob.Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Why, what's the matter? Don't you like it? I'll put a ragtime pieceon," cried Bobby, abruptly stopping the machine with a scraping soundthat certainly proved he was a great scratcher of records.
"Oh, now it's lost! It's lost! We uns thought we uns had found somethingbeautiful. Where has it gone?"
"Did you like it then? What made you bawl?"
"We uns has to cry when we uns finds something beautiful sometimes. Weuns cries a little when the sun sets but it is tears of happiness. Canyou uns play that again?"
"Sure!" and Bobby started up the "Humoresque" again and this time TomTit dried his eyes and stood with a smile on his face.
"Oh, Spring-keeper!" he cried when Mr. McRae came hunting him, "we unshas found something more beautiful than sunsets and flowers--prettierthan birds--prettier than pink--prettier than blue or yellow. It shineslike dew and tastes like honey--Oh, Spring-keeper, listen!"
"Yes, my boy, it is beautiful. And now I think you have found enoughthings for today and we must go home."
"Go home and leave this!" and Tom Tit embraced the Victrola. "We unscan't leave it."
"Listen, my boy! I will get one for you. I don't know why I neverthought of it before. Within a week you shall have one all your own andplay it as much as you choose."
Of course Bobby had to be instructed in the rudiments of jew's-harpplaying first, according to agreement, and then with many expressionsof mutual regard our young people parted from the spring-keeper andTom Tit.
