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Updated: May 9, 2025
They came in the Firebird, their automobile, and declared that they would camp out in the open Maine woods, cook in the open, make soups of lily bulbs, stirred with the aromatic boughs of the spruce, and otherwise conform to all the glorious hardships peculiar to the pioneers according to the stories told by said pioneers. But the absence of Tavia put a damper on everything.
The night-hawk, wheeling about in the highest regions of the air, emitted his peevish, boding cry. The woodpecker gave a lonely tap now and then on some hollow tree, and the firebird, as he streamed by them with his deep-red plumage, seemed like some genius flitting about this region of mystery. They now came to an enclosure that had once been a garden.
Now there comes sidling, gliding along the barbed wire fence, the Baltimore oriole, always a charming fellow because of his flaming plumage, which has won for him the name of the golden robin and firebird. He walks along the wire fence in a gliding, one-leg-at-a-time fashion, as he often does on the twig of a tree. His head is down, he is on the lookout for caterpillars.
When we played the Stravinsky pieces here, for instance, his Pétrouschka and Firebird had not yet been heard. "We try, as an organization, to be absolutely catholic in taste. Nor do we neglect the older music, because we play so much of the new. This year we are devoting special attention to the American composers.
An hour later Ned and Nat, with Jack and Claud, started out in the Firebird, it having been decided that it would be best for all the boys to go together in the auto, as they could then cover any amount of ground, and not have to worry about Dorothy and Cologne. The two girls went their way in the cart, old Jeff, the horse, being looked upon as quite a competent guide.
"If we don't find her to-day " she faltered. "But we shall," insisted Cologne. "I feel it! Tavia will be back at camp for supper!" "Are we far from camp now?" asked Dorothy, looking along the fir-lined road to the wilderness beyond. "No, we are only just around the bend. Would you like to get out and walk? I think I hear the honk of the Firebird." "I believe I would like to walk," said Dorothy.
Dost thou know the firebird, with his coat of red, and the yellow finches and the bluebirds? The little brown wren greets them in her pert way, and I dare say takes pleasure in them. And how many flowers you find in the woods and the meadows." "I never go for flowers. It is a sinful waste of time, and we have no use for them, since they do but litter everything.
His tail was black and orange. Peter had heard him called the Firebird, and now he understood why. His song was quite as rich and beautiful as his coat. Shortly he was joined by Mrs. Goldy. Compared with her handsome husband she was very modestly dressed. She wore more brown than black, and where the orange color appeared it was rather dull. She wasted no time in singing.
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