for the squirrels; then, slinging our knapsacks, we took a last look
round the little place, and locked the door.

Our way lay up the hill, across the pasture and through the beeches,
toward the sky-line.

We stood still a moment, gazing at the well-loved landscape. Then we
turned and breasted the hill.

"_Allons_!" cried Colin.

"_Allons_!" I answered. "_Allons_! To New York!"




CHAPTER VIII

THE AMERICAN BLUEBIRD AND ITS SONG


I wish I could convey the singular feeling of freedom and adventure that
possessed us as Colin and I grasped our sticks and struck up the green
hill--for New York. It was a feeling of exhilaration and romantic
expectancy, blent with an absurd sense of our being entirely on our own
resources, vagrants shifting for ourselves, independent of civilization;
which, of course, the actual circumstances in no way warranted. A
delightful boyish illusion of entering on untrodden paths and facing
unknown dangers thrilled through us.