t a feather
out o' place on you. You are finer'n a piece o' red satin. An' you
got that way o' swingin' an' dancin' an' high-steppin' right out in God
A'mighty's big woods, a teeterin' in the wind, an' a dartin' 'crost the
water. Cage never touched you! But you are somebody's pet jest the
same. An' I look like the man, an' you are tryin' to tell me so, by
gum!"

Leaning toward Abram, the Cardinal turned his head from side to side,
and peered, "chipped," and waited for an answering "Chip" from a little
golden-haired child, but there was no way for the man to know that.

"It's jest as sure as fate," he said. "You think you know me, an' you
are tryin' to tell me somethin'. Wish to land I knowed what you want!
Are you tryin' to tell me `Howdy'? Well, I don't 'low nobody to be
politer 'an I am, so far as I know."

Abram lifted his old hat, and the raindrops glistened on his white
hair. He squared his shoulders and stood very erect.

"Howdy, Mr. Redbird! How d'ye find yerself this evenin'? I don't
jest riccolict ever seein' you before, but I'll never meet you agin
'thout knowin' you. When d'you arrive? Come through by the special
midnight flyer, did you? Well, you never was more welcome any place in
your life. I'd give a right smart sum this minnit if you'd say you
came to settle on this river bank. How do you like it? To my mind
it's jest as near Paradise as you'll strike on earth.

"Old Wabash is a twister for curvin' and windin' round, an' it's
limestone bed half the way, an' the water's as pretty an' clear as in
Maria's springhouse. An' as for trimmin', why say, Mr. Redbird, I'll
jest leave it to you if she ain't all trimmed up like a woman's spring
bunnit. Look at the grass a-creepin' right down till it's a trailin'
in the water! Did you ever see jest quite such fine fringy willers?
An' you wait a little, an' the flowerin' mallows 'at grows long the
shinin' old river are fine as garden hollyhocks. Maria says 'at thy'd
be purtier 'an hers if they were only double; but, Lord, Mr. Redbird,
they are! See 'em once on the bank, an' agin in the water! An' back a
little an' there's jest thickets of papaw, an' thorns, an' wild
grape-vines, an' crab, an' red an' black haw, an' dogwood, an' sumac,
an' spicebush, an' trees! Lord! Mr. Redbird, the sycamores, an' maples,
an' tulip, an' ash, an' elm trees are so bustin' fine 'long the old
Wabash they put 'em into poetry books an' sing songs about 'em. What