Vinzi had kept his promise in carving Faz and Jos each a beautiful pipe, and both were hard at work practicing. Pipe-playing had grown to be their sole amusement, for it was their dearest wish to imitate Vinzi as much as possible.
Both realized that Vinzi’s playing was vastly superior to theirs, but they did not give up and tried to learn whatever they could. As soon as they reached the pasture in the morning, the piping began, and while the cows were grazing peacefully they would devote themselves to music. Jos and Faz were usually leaders of the other boys in their sports. When these did not appear they were very much missed by their comrades. So the other boys came over to them, and soon this enthusiasm about music proved catching. Each boy wanted to try his talent for piping and thought he could imitate Vinzi’s playing better than any other. But they all agreed in pronouncing him their master, for each pipe took on a different quality when Vinzi blew it.
After the pipes had continuously been whining, howling and squeaking the boys always begged Vinzi to play. They wanted to see how he did it, and Vinzi was only too glad to do so. He played as long as they liked to hear him, while they actually crowded around him and eagerly watched his fingers. The melodies seemed to come somehow of themselves. All he did was to let his fingers leap lightly over the holes, and it looked childishly simple. After watching him each thought that he could now do it, too, and it made every boy eager to try afresh. If one seemingly succeeded fairly well, another boy would say that he could do it as well if only he had his own pipe and took time to practice. This was impossible now, because one could not keep the precious instrument more than a few minutes at a time. There were already ten more who clamored for it.
Therefore one boy after another would come to Vinzi saying, “I wish you would cut me a nice pipe, Vinzi; I’ll give you something for it.”
Vinzi answered always most obligingly, “I’ll make you a pipe and you needn’t give me anything. But you’ll have to wait for it, because I have promised to make others first.”
Vinzi was kept very busy, because every day brought him new requests for pipes. Some of his time was taken up by playing, and Russli did not give up his demands upon him, either. But Vinzi felt happy and satisfied. Whatever he could do he did gladly, and it gave him great satisfaction to be able to spread such joy about him.
The uncle was delighted to hear about the daily gatherings on his pasture. He liked this pursuit of music and it pleased him that boys who lived as far up as the hospice should come down to learn the art of piping. By cutting several pipes every day Vinzi finally supplied nearly every pasture ground with two or three. But this did not suffice. As soon as a boy had succeeded in giving forth a few satisfactory sounds another immediately wanted to try his talent, too. It took considerable practice and patience before they could attempt to play a tune, for it was even hard to make smooth, pleasant sounds.
The supreme wish of each boy had become to own a pipe which Vinzi had carved himself, for no one else could do it so well.
Among the boys who met daily there were about ten or twelve who were called the Tower Boys. Vinzi never knew exactly how many of them there were, because only some of them could come down to the Lesa pasture at a time, the others staying behind to mind the cows. Vinzi had first believed them all to be brothers. But he found out that they were cousins and came from three different households. He had given two of them pipes already, for they had been very eager for them. One of them who was called Black Vereli, on account of his black, curly hair and dark complexion, had teased and begged him for a pipe so insistently that Vinzi could not resist his pleading. He gave him one which was already finished despite the fact that the other boys cried jealously, “The Tower Boys have two already.”
Full of gratitude and enthusiasm, Vereli ran away with his precious gift.