He staggered a little as though he were
on a deck and the sea was rolling underneath him.
"How ever did you find it out?" he asked, after an interval that no
one had cared to interrupt. "What in the world made you first think of
it?" And though his voice was very soft and clear, it was just a
little shaky.
"Well," drawled the Tramp, "maybe it was just because I thought of
nothing else. On the road we live sort of simply. There's never any
hurry; the wind's a-blowing free; everything's sweet and careless--and
so am I." And he chuckled happily to himself.
"Let's begin at once!" cried Tim impatiently. "I feel warm already--
hot all over--simply burning."
The Tramp signified his agreement. "But you must each get a feather
first," he told them, "a feather that a bird has dropped. It's a sign
that we belong together. Birds know everything first. They go
everywhere and see everything all at once. They're in the air, and on
the ground, and on the water, and under it as well. They live in the
open--sea or land. And if you have a feather in your hand--well, it
means keeping in touch with everything that's going. They go light and
easy; we must go light and easy too.
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