When closer investigation
reveals a whole series of which he probably does not remember ever to
have heard, he feels indeed an explorer in a new and wonderful land.
After a few months these things become old stories. They take their
places in his cosmos as accustomed things. He is then at some pains to
understand his visitor's extravagant interest and delight over loquats,
chiramoyas, alligator pears, tamarinds, guavas, the blooming of century
plants, the fruits of chollas and the like. Baker pointed out some of
these things to Bob.
"Winter to summer in two jumps and a hop," said he. "The come-on stuff
rings the bell in this respect, anyway. Smell the air: it's real air.
'Listen to the mocking bird.'"
"Seriously or figuratively?" asked Bob. "I mean, is that a real mocking
bird?"
"Surest thing you know," replied Baker as the train moved on, leaving
the songster to his ecstasies. "They sing all night out here. Sounds
fine when you haven't a grouch. Then you want to collect a brick and
drive the darn fowl off the reservation."
"I never saw one before outside a cage," said Bob.
"There's lots of things you haven't seen that you're going to see, now
you've got out to the Real Thing," said Baker.
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