"And what about me?" questioned Charlie.
"Oh, yes. One of these heah peccaries, a good-natured peccary, too, with a laikin' fo' little children, found you in the cyclone. You were a pretty little baby with big blue eyes the same's you've got now. I don't know exactly wheah the cyclone found you. Anyway, the peccary picked you up in his mouth. When he had rested as long as he wanted to with the other peccaries, he flew along and flew along—they had all got to be flying peccaries, you know, on account of swallowin' so much wind, until he came to the door of my dugout, this same dugout we are in now, and he laid you very carefully down by the door. Then I went out in the mawnin' and brought you in."
Charlie invariably at this point reached up his arms and put them around Seth's neck.
It was very kind of him, he thought, to go out and bring him in. What if the wolves had come along and eaten him! Or the little hungry coyotes they heard barking in the nights. Ugh!
"And then the peccary flew away again?" he asked. "Didn't he?"
"Yes," answered Seth. "He flew away with the rest of the flyin' peccaries."
"And haven't you ever seen them since?" asked Charlie, "or him?"
"Sometimes you can see them 'way up in the air," replied Seth, running his fingers through his hair, "but they ah so fah away and little, you can't tell them from birds."
Cyclona nodded again.
"Yes," she corroborated, "they are so far away and little you can't tell them from birds."