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Updated: May 21, 2025
Bobaday was very still, lest his grandmother in the tent, or Zene in the remoter wagon, should insist on his retiring to his uneasy bed again. He got enough of the carriage in daytime, having counted all its buttons up and down and crosswise. The smell of the leather and lining cloth was mixed with every odor of the journey. One can have too much of a very easy, well-made carriage.
Zene limped up to his seat in front of the wagon, and they moved forward along the 'pike. "Good!" breathed aunt Corinne, settling back. "'Tisn't good a bit!" said Bobaday. And whom should they meet in a few miles but cousin Padgett himself, riding horseback and leading a cream-colored horse which he had been into the country to purchase. This was almost as trying as taking dinner at his house.
"No; but he said turn west on the first road we came to," counseled Bobaday. "And this is the first, I counted," said aunt Corinne. "I wish we could see the cover ahead of us. We don't want to resk gettin' separated," said Grandma Padgett. Yet she turned the horses westward with a degree of confidence, and drove up into a hilly country which soon hid the sun.
Grandma Padgett was gently excited, and told Bobaday and Corinne after the Virginia woman's departure to her own wagons, that she should feel safe on account of being an old neighbor in the camp. But the camp was too exciting to let the children fall asleep early.
Fairy Carrie again shook her head, and her face creased as if she were now determined in this open air and childish company to cry and be relieved. "Can't you talk?" whispered aunt Corinne. "No," said the child. "Yes, you can, too! Did the show folks steal you?" Fairy Carrie's eyes widened. Tears gathered and dropped slowly down her cheeks. Aunt Corinne seized her hand. "Why, Bobaday, Padgett!
Aunt Corinne leaped up and turned at bay, half-expecting to find the man with the pig's head gnashing at her ear. But what she saw in the sinking light was a fine old head in a night-cap, staring at them from the tent. Bobaday and his aunt were so rapid in retiring that their guardian was unable to make them explain their conduct as fully as she desired.
Their own smouldering fire, and wagon with the hoops standing up like huge uncovered ribs, and the tents wherein their guardian slept after the fatigue of the day, all appeared wonderfully soon, considering the time it had taken them to reach their exploring limit. Aunt Corinne huddled by the coals, and Bobaday sat down on the foot-chunk he had placed for his awning throne.
The children were hoisted up the steps, which they climbed with agile feet, as if accustomed to scaling high cart wheels. Bobaday sat by his grandmother, and the back seat received this addition to the party without at all crowding aunt Corinne. She looked the boy and girl over with great satisfaction. They were near her own age.
Then he crept with great contentment to the top, and stretched himself to sleep. "He's a kind of a fowl of the air," said Grandma Padgett. "Oh, but I hope he's going our road!" said Bobaday, as they re-ascended the stairs. "He's more fun than a drove of turkeys!" "And I'm not a bit afraid of him," said aunt Corinne. "He ain't like the old man with a bag on his back."
"I don't want my hand pinched off, Bobaday Padgett!" whispered aunt Corinne, jerking away and thus breaking the circuit of comfort and protection which was supposed to flow from his jacket. "But listen," hissed Robert. "I don't want to listen," whispered aunt Corinne; "I want to go back to our camp-fire." "Nobody can hurt us," whispered her nephew, gathering boldness.
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