By Edgar Pangborn
Bluejay, 1983. exchange paperback. initially released in 1954, Pangborn's novel received the foreign myth Award in 1955.
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You said: 'Billy Kell might know. "Oh. " He sighed uncomfortably. "Cheepus. . " "You said something about the Diggers too. What are they? " "Yeah. " He grinned in a way I hadn't seen, as if he were trying out toughness to see how it felt. "They think so, Mr. " "They're a bunch of — " He stopped, weighing me, I think, and wondering if I'd tolerate an obscenity from a twelve-year-old, and deciding against it. " "Oh, they fight dirty. Some stealing, I guess, fruit-stand jobs or stuff off the back of a truck.
Chuck everything," he whispered. "Just every damn thing and start fresh. In there, in that room, I was like — like cut down the middle. But that's whacky, isn't it? It doesn't make any sense. I don't really want to go anywhere else. If I could . " "I think it'll pass," I said, finding no better words than these weak ones that could hardly help him. " He started to go. " I took the wrapped mirror from the back of a bureau drawer. "Something you might like to look at. I brought it from Canada.
He spoke doubtfully: "Well, there isn't much. People say it's kind of gone to seed. I dunno. Lot of empty houses. Nothing much ever happens. The country's nice, like here, when you get out in it — Cheepus, I wish I could! You know: just walk all day, climb hills. " "Think I'll get a car. " He lit up from inside. "Spend a whole day in the woods maybe? I could go for that. . You know, that painting, the one in your room, it wasn't any place I ever really saw. I've seen places like it — birches — Uncle Jacob takes me for drives sometimes.