" And, as he said it,
they caught the murmur of the little stream; they heard singing in the
air as well. The blackbirds whistled in one direction, the thrushes
trilled and gurgled in another, and overhead, both among the covering
leaves and from the open sky, a chorus of twittering and piping filled
the chambers of the day. Judy recalled, as of long ago, the warning
bugle-call of an up-and-under bird; Tim faintly remembered having
overheard some swallows "discussing" together; Uncle Felix saw a robin
perched against a sky of pearly grey at the end of an interminable
corridor that stretched across whole centuries.... Then, close beside
the three of them, a bumble-bee, a golden fly, and a company of summer
gnats went by--booming, trumpeting, singing like a tiny carillon of
bells respectively.
"Hark and listen," exclaimed the Tramp with triumph in his voice, and
looking down at Tim particularly. "He's calling all the time. It's the
little ordinary sounds that give the hints."
"It's an enormous hide; I mean to look for ever and ever," cried the
delighted boy.
"I can hear everything in the world now," cried Judy.
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