(From _The Dial_)
Even idiots it seems have their place and purpose in society, or as a
chess player would say tapping his fingers on the board--"That pawn may
cost you your queen." The little village of M---- only realized this
after it was too late.
The police of M---- all knew that Peter, a half-wit, or "Silly Peter" as
he was called, was perfectly harmless; even though at times he would
litter the streets and market-place with bread crumbs. But the pigeons
of M---- soon cleared the walks.
Peter, it seems, had at an early age dedicated his silly life to the
pigeons. All his cares and sorrows were bound up in the lives of the
birds. In fact it seemed as though he himself became birdlike. He could
flap his arms to his sides and produce that same dull penetrating note
that was given only to this particular species of bird when they flapped
their wings.
At an early age he was left without parents and managed to grow up among
the horses and cows in the barns. But these larger animals were entirely
out of his sphere--he did not understand them.
One day when the lad was about seven years old, the village folks
suddenly noticed that he was lame. When asked about it, all he would
reply was: "The pigeons made me lame."
Luba, a farmer's fat cook, once told at the market-place how Peter
became lame. She told of how the boy stood on the roof of her master's
barn flapping his arms in imitation of the birds encircling his head;
how he sprang in the air in a mad attempt to fly, and fell to the
ground. But Luba had a reputation for being a liar, and none believed
her although all enjoyed listening. "Such good imagination," they would
say, after she was gone.
Peter grew up a little lame, but this defect seemed only to add to his
nimbleness. He could climb a telegraph pole sideways like a parrot
walking up a stick. Once on top he would swing his good leg around the
cross beam and wave his hat--and from below a flight of flapping and
fluttering birds would arise.
In this way he lived and grew to the age of sixteen, although his small,
protruding bones and round, child-like eyes kept him looking younger.
Where he slept and where he ate, all remained a mystery to the village
folk; but this mystery was not near as great as another--
The schoolmaster once noticed that at times the pigeons seemed all grey,
and at other times the greater number of them carried large pink
breasts; also at times there were few, while on other days the streets
and market-place were thickly dotted with nodding, pecking birds; also
that never could they find the very young ones.
It seemed as though only Peter knew the secret--but when asked about it
he would show a silly grin and shy away, pretending to be much occupied
chasing the birds that ever flocked about him.
He would travel about from barn to barn collecting the feed that fell
from the bins of careless animals. 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.