“I goes an’ fetches dem,” he offered.
“But how can we get at it?”
“Dat little Pabblyo, he climb a tree lak a monkey; he git it. Jes’ yuh wait; he git it.” Unc’ Aaron had called Pablo so from the first, and nothing would ever make him change the pronunciation of the boy’s name.
Joanne sat still upon an old stump, her eyes fixed upon the gray green parasite with its waxen berries. In a moment a flash of red showed her that a cardinal bird was wintering near by. She watched him flit from tree to tree, and presently saw the bright blue plumage of a jay whose impetuous dashing flight gave evidence that he knew the presence of a stranger. She heard his harsh cry farther off, and next was attracted by a pair of squirrels playfully chasing each other from branch to branch. She was still watching their antics when Winnie came up.
“The others will be along in a minute,” she announced. “Mr. Clover is there with a big drag that they haul stones on, and the girls are loading it with the greens so they can be easily taken to the road and into the automobiles. All the trees are to be hauled to town in a wagon. Where is the mistletoe?”
Joanne pointed upward. “Isn’t it a fine big bunch? There are so many interesting things to see in these woods. I have been watching the squirrels and birds. Don’t you wish you could be transformed into some little woodsy creature, an elf or a gnome or something? Then you could get so close to the forest life and get intimate with all the little people who live here.”
Winnie laughed. “I think I prefer to be myself. I shouldn’t like to be too intimate with some of the denizens of the forest; they might eat me up.”
“Oh, I don’t mean to be always an elf or fay, but just sometimes; when you felt like it. Here come the rest. Now we can see Pablo do his climbing stunt.”
The girls and some of the boys came trooping up, and presently Pablo was nimbly climbing the tree, finally detaching the coveted mistletoe which he tossed down to the group below. It was deftly caught by one of the boys and was borne off in triumph to top the pile of holly and other greens ready to be taken back to town. There was not a girl or boy who did not demand a bit, and it was quite clear there would be few greens of any kind left to sell to any but the gatherers. The trees, to be sure, were less in demand, but these would be easily disposed of.
Noon found them still busy. An hour passed. Chet looked at his watch. “I don’t know how the rest of you feel,” he said, “but I think it’s time we had some ‘grub.’ I could eat a dozen hot dogs this minute. You’ve heard the expression ‘hungry as a wood chopper’; well, here is the living fact.”