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Various

"The Best Short Stories of 1921 and the Yearbook of the American Short Story"

He would sometimes travel along the
back yards, twist his mouth and call to nobody in particular: "A few
crumbs for the birdies, lady?" And presently through an open window a
crust would fly, and with this buried in his hat he would be off.
Only among the poor would he hobble about. He never ventured up the hill
where the better people lived; and it is perhaps for this reason that he
was seldom disturbed.
* * * * *
To himself Silly Peter was monarch of the air. In his own distorted mind
he was master of all creatures that flew. Worldly cares he left to
those who had inherited worldly material; as for himself, he was
concerned only with the aerial strata and with the feathery creatures
thereof. Nobody wanted it; so he acquired it as he acquired the cast-off
hat that he wore. He fathomed it, tasted it, drank it, navigated his
creatures through it, and even fanned life into it by flapping his bony
arms.
He understood the air and the sky, and it all belonged to him. Every
atom of sky that poured itself over the village of M---- belonged to
Silly Peter. It seemed as though he purposely limped lightly over the
ground that was foreign to his nature; for he was captain and master of
the sky.

II
"We must first loosen the ground," said a petty officer.


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