"I believe," announced Tim at length, with the air of a sage about him, "the best way is to sit still and wait; then he'll just come out like a rabbit and show himself." And, as no one contradicted, he added confidently, "that's my idea." His love was evidently among the things of the soil, rabbits, rats and hedgehogs, both hunter and adventurer strong in him.
"A hole!" cried Judy with indignation. "Never! He's in the air. I heard a bird just now that—"
"Whew!" whistled Uncle Felix, interrupting her excitedly. "He's been along here. Look! I'm sure of it." And he said it with such conviction that they ran up, expecting actual footprints.
"How do you know?" Tim asked dubiously, seeing no immediate proof himself. All paused for the reply; but Uncle Felix also paused. He had said a thing it seemed he could not justify.
"Don't hesitate," said the Tramp, watching him with amusement. "Don't think before you speak. There's nothing to think about until you've spoken."
Uncle Felix wore an expression of bewilderment. "I meant the flowers," he stammered, still unsure of his new powers.
"Of course," the other chuckled. "Didn't I tell you 'tender and beautiful,' and 'bang out in the open'?"
"Then you're right, Uncle; they are signs," cried Judy, "and you do like butter," and she danced away to pick the dandelions that smothered the field with gold. But the Tramp held out his feather like a wand.
"They're our best signs, remember," he cried. "You might as well pick a feather out of a living bird."
"Oh!"—and she pulled herself up sharply, a little flush running across her face and the wind catching at her flying hair. She swayed a moment, nearly overbalancing owing to the interrupted movement, and looking for all the world like a wild young rose tree, her eyes two shining blossoms in the air. Then she dropped down and buried her nose among the crowd of yellow flowers. She smelt them audibly, drawing her breath in and letting it out again as though she could almost taste and eat the perfume.