He nodded his head,
and repeated in a shy, contented voice--as though he surrendered
himself to some enchantment too great to understand--"I think so; I
hope so; I--wonder!"
"We've looked everywhere already," Tim shouted by way of explanation--
when the Tramp cut him short with a burst of rolling laughter:
"But in the wrong kind of places, maybe," he suggested, moving forward
like a hedge or bit of hayfield the wind pretends to shift.
"Oh, well--perhaps," the boy admitted.
"Probly," said Judy, keeping close beside him.
"Of course," decided Uncle Felix; "but we've been pretty warm once or
twice all the same." He lumbered after the other three, yet something
frisky about him, as about a pony released into a field and still
uncertain of its bounding strength.
"Have you really?" remarked their leader, good-humouredly, but with a
touch of sarcasm. "Good and right, so far as it goes; only 'warm' is
not enough; we want to be hot, burning hot and steaming all the time.
That's the way to find him." He paused and turned towards them; he
gathered them nearer to him with his smiling eyes somehow. "It's like
this," he went on more slowly than ever: "A good hider doesn't choose
the difficult places; he chooses the common ordinary places where
nobody would ever think of looking.
Pages:
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330