" And the Tramp kept murmuring in his
voice of wind and water, "I'm full of air and sunlight, floating in
them, floating away... my secret's in the wind and open sky... there
is no longer any Time--to lose...."
A bright green lizard darted up the sun-baked bank, vanishing down a
crack without a sound; it left a streak of fire in the air. A golden
fly hovered about the tallest reed, then darted into another world,
invisibly. A second followed it, a third, a fourth--points of gold
that pinned the day fast against the moving wall of green. A wren shot
at full speed along the bed of the ditch, threading its winding length
together as upon a woven pattern. All were busy and intent upon some
purpose common to the whole of them, and to everything else as well;
even the things that did not move were doing something.
"I say," cried Tim suddenly, "they're covering him up. They're hiding
him better so that we shan't find him. We've got too warm."
How long they had been in that ditch when the boy exclaimed no one
could tell; perhaps a lifetime, or perhaps an age only. It was long
enough, at any rate, for the Tramp to have changed visibly in
appearance--he looked younger, thinner, sprightlier, more shining.
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