A few faint honks came to them, and then the geese grew misty on the horizon.
Shif'less Sol followed them with serious eyes.
"Do you ever think, Paul," he said, "that we human bein's ain't so mighty pow'ful ez we think we are.

We kin walk on the groun', an' by hard learnin' an' hard work we kin paddle through the water a little.
But jest look at them geese flyin' a mile high, right over everything, rivers, forests any mountains, makin' a hundred miles an hour, almost without flappin' a wing.

Then they kin come down on the water an' float fur hours without bein' tired, an' they kin waddle along on the groun', too.

Did you ever hear of any men who had so many 'complishments?
Why, Paul, s'pose you an' me could grow wings all at once, an' go through the air a mile a minute fur a month an' never git tired." "We'd certainly see some great sights," said Paul, "but do you know, Sol, what would be the first thing I'd do if I had the gift of tireless wings ?" "Fly off to them other continents I've heard you tell about." "No, I'd swoop along over the forests up here until I picked out all the camps of the Indians and Tories.

I'd pick out the Butlers and Braxton Wyatt and Coleman, and see what mischief they were planning.