"And me?" the Tramp mentioned lightly, smiling at his companion of the
outdoor life. "Don't leave me out, please. I'm looking like the rest
of you."
WEEDEN turned round and gazed at him. He wore a strange expression
that had respect in it, but something more than mere respect. There
was a touch of wonder in his eye, a hint of worship almost. But he did
not answer; no word escaped his lips. Instead of speaking he moved up
nearer; he took three cautious steps, then halted close beside the
great burly figure that formed the centre of the little group.
And then he did a curious and significant little act; he held out both
his hands against him as a man might hold out his hands to warm them
before a warm and comforting grate of blazing coals.
"Fire," he said; then added, "and I'm much obliged to you."
He wore a proud and satisfied air, grateful and happy too. He put his
cap straight, picked up his spade, and prepared without another word
to go on digging for truffles where apparently none existed. He seemed
quite content with--looking.
A pause followed, broken presently by Tim: a whisper addressed to all.
"He never finds any.
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