August 3, 1844, Saturday.

It was Saturday. Jim had fed animals, chopped wood, gone to the schoolhouse for a lesson and lunch, and walked Mrs McNab and Billy home. Having checked their home carefully for rattlesnakes (there were none), he'd swept out the Peace and Poverty, and helped at the post office. Now came his reward: it was hot as blazes, and he was now free to join Hannibal and Dan Craig at their favourite swimming hole.

'Come on in!' called Hannibal. 'The water's warm!'

This turned out to be a barefaced lie. The water, in a shady, secluded pool in a bend of the creek, was freezing. But the weather was so hot that Jim didn't care. After a minute, he got over the shock, and swam around happily.

Hannibal and Dan took turns diving off a plank they'd stuck out over the water. They yelled and splashed each other. Occasionally, Hannibal dove underwater and pulled an unwary Dan under with him. They didn't bother Jim, though. They knew from before that Jim in water was a different creature from Jim on land. On land, he'd laugh and joke with the best of them: he was conversational and inquisitive. Once in the water, however, Jim turned into a Transcendentalist, according to Hannibal. His eyes unfocussed. He got a dreamy stare. He could float around in the water for an hour without saying a word. When that happened, nobody but Jim knew what Jim was thinking.

Jim lay back in the water, watching the afternoon sun filtering through the trees. If they'd be quiet, he thought, you could hear the frogs peeping. But they're never quiet. He looked up and saw a bluejay on an overhanging branch. The bluejay called noisily. Jim chuckled.

What are you sayin'? he thought.

'Caw, caw!' replied the jay. I'm tellin' everybody that I'm here.

Very brave of you, seein's how the hawks can't see you in the trees.

Yup. Discretion is the better part of valour, said Shakespeare.

Ha, ha. What do you know about Shakespeare, bird?

Birds know everything. I know what you're thinkin' about, Jim Tanner.

That's more than I know. What am I thinkin' about?

You're thinkin' about tryin' to get George Hayes to play that new kind of song, the polka.

True. Man who came through from Philadelphia says that polka stuff is all the rage. Every dancing teacher in the city is offerin' polka lessons. They're publishin' sheet music. It's the big thing in London and Paris, he says.

Not in Brookville, said the bluejay, and twitched his tail.

No, not in Brookville. They don't even waltz. But the Democrats might polka. You know, since their candidate is named Polk. The tunes are catchy, with that little hop in there.

The bluejay did a little hop on the branch. I could do a polka. Write me a bluejay polka.

I'll do that, thought Jim drowsily, and the bluejay, still calling, flew away on some bluejay business of his own.

While the swimmers dried off, they ate sandwiches and fruit they'd brought along. Jim noodled around with his fiddle, and came up with the Bluejay Polka.

From up in the tree, Jim heard a 'caw, caw!' of appreciation.

Dmitri Gheorgheni