Текст книги "Страна Северного Ветра / At the Back of the North Wind"

Автор книги: Джордж МакДональд

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Текущая страница: 27 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

CHAPTER XXIV. ANOTHER EARLY BIRD

HE GOT up in the morning as soon as he heard the men moving in the yard.

He tucked in his little brother so that he could not tumble out of bed,

and then went out, leaving the door open, so that if he should cry his

mother might hear him at once. When he got into the yard he found the

stable-door just opened.

“I'm the early bird, I think,” he said to himself. “I hope I shall catch

the worm.”

He would not ask any one to help him, fearing his project might meet

with disapproval and opposition. With great difficulty, but with the

help of a broken chair he brought down from his bedroom, he managed to

put the harness on Diamond. If the old horse had had the least objection

to the proceeding, of course he could not have done it; but even when it

came to the bridle, he opened his mouth for the bit, just as if he had

been taking the apple which Diamond sometimes gave him. He fastened the

cheek-strap very carefully, just in the usual hole, for fear of choking

his friend, or else letting the bit get amongst his teeth. It was a job

to get the saddle on; but with the chair he managed it. If old Diamond

had had an education in physics to equal that of the camel, he would

have knelt down to let him put it on his back, but that was more than

could be expected of him, and then Diamond had to creep quite under him

to get hold of the girth. The collar was almost the worst part of the

business;

 but there Diamond could help Diamond. He held his head very

low till his little master had got it over and turned it round, and

then he lifted his head, and shook it on to his shoulders. The yoke was

rather difficult; but when he had laid the traces over the horse's neck,

the weight was not too much for him. He got him right at last, and led

him out of the stable.

By this time there were several of the men watching him, but they would

not interfere, they were so anxious to see how he would get over the

various difficulties. They followed him as far as the stable-door, and

there stood watching him again as he put the horse between the shafts,

got them up one after the other into the loops, fastened the traces, the

belly-band, the breeching, and the reins.

Then he got his whip. The moment he mounted the box, the men broke into

a hearty cheer of delight at his success. But they would not let him go

without a general inspection of the harness; and although they found it

right, for not a buckle had to be shifted, they never allowed him to do

it for himself again all the time his father was ill.

The cheer brought his mother to the window, and there she saw her little

boy setting out alone with the cab in the gray of morning. She tugged at

the window, but it was stiff; and before she could open it, Diamond, who

was in a great hurry, was out of the mews, and almost out of the street.

She called “Diamond! Diamond!” but there was no answer except from Jack.

“Never fear for him, ma'am,” said Jack. “It 'ud be only a devil as would

hurt him, and there ain't so many o' them as some folk 'ud have you

believe. A boy o' Diamond's size as can 'arness a 'oss t'other Diamond's

size, and put him to, right as a trivet–if he do upset the keb–'ll

fall on his feet, ma'am.”

“But he won't upset the cab, will he, Jack?”

“Not he, ma'am. Leastways he won't go for to do it.”

“I know as much as that myself. What do you mean?”

“I mean he's a little likely to do it as the oldest man in the stable.

How's the gov'nor to-day, ma'am?”

“A good deal better, thank you,” she answered, closing the window in

some fear lest her husband should have been made anxious by the news

of Diamond's expedition. He knew pretty well, however, what his boy

was capable of, and although not quite easy was less anxious than

his mother. But as the evening drew on, the anxiety of both of them

increased, and every sound of wheels made his father raise himself in

his bed, and his mother peep out of the window.

Diamond had resolved to go straight to the cab-stand where he was best

known, and never to crawl for fear of getting annoyed by idlers. Before

he got across Oxford Street, however, he was hailed by a man who wanted

to catch a train, and was in too great a hurry to think about the

driver. Having carried him to King's Cross in good time, and got a good

fare in return, he set off again in great spirits, and reached the stand

in safety. He was the first there after all.

As the men arrived they all greeted him kindly, and inquired after his

father.

“Ain't you afraid of the old 'oss running away with you?” asked one.

“No, he wouldn't run away with me,” answered Diamond. “He knows I'm

getting the shillings for father. Or if he did he would only run home.”

“Well, you're a plucky one, for all your girl's looks!” said the man;

“and I wish ye luck.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Diamond. “I'll do what I can. I came to the old

place, you see, because I knew you would let me have my turn here.”

In the course of the day one man did try to cut him out, but he was a

stranger; and the shout the rest of them raised let him see it would not

do, and made him so far ashamed besides, that he went away crawling.

Once, in a block, a policeman came up to him, and asked him for his

number. Diamond showed him his father's badge, saying with a smile:

“Father's ill at home, and so I came out with the cab. There's no fear

of me. I can drive. Besides, the old horse could go alone.”

“Just as well, I daresay. You're a pair of 'em. But you are a rum 'un

for a cabby–ain't you now?” said the policeman. “I don't know as I

ought to let you go.”

“I ain't done nothing,” said Diamond. “It's not my fault I'm no bigger.

I'm big enough for my age.”

“That's where it is,” said the man. “You ain't fit.”

“How do you know that?” asked Diamond, with his usual smile, and turning

his head like a little bird.

“Why, how are you to get out of this ruck now, when it begins to move?”

“Just you get up on the box,” said Diamond, “and I'll show you. There,

that van's a-moving now. Jump up.”

The policeman did as Diamond told him, and was soon satisfied that the

little fellow could drive.

“Well,” he said, as he got down again, “I don't know as I should be

right to interfere. Good luck to you, my little man!”

“Thank you, sir,” said Diamond, and drove away.

In a few minutes a gentleman hailed him.

“Are you the driver of this cab?” he asked.

“Yes, sir” said Diamond, showing his badge, of which, he was proud.

“You're the youngest cabman I ever saw. How am I to know you won't break

all my bones?”

“I would rather break all my own,” said Diamond. “But if you're afraid,

never mind me; I shall soon get another fare.”

“I'll risk it,” said the gentleman; and, opening the door himself, he

jumped in.

He was going a good distance, and soon found that Diamond got him over

the ground well. Now when Diamond had only to go straight ahead, and had

not to mind so much what he was about, his thoughts always turned to the

riddle Mr. Raymond had set him; and this gentleman looked so clever that

he fancied he must be able to read it for him. He had given up all hope

of finding it out for himself, and he could not plague his father about

it when he was ill. He had thought of the answer himself, but fancied it

could not be the right one, for to see how it all fitted required some

knowledge of physiology. So, when he reached the end of his journey, he

got down very quickly, and with his head just looking in at the window,

said, as the gentleman gathered his gloves and newspapers:

“Please, sir, can you tell me the meaning of a riddle?”

“You must tell me the riddle first,” answered the gentleman, amused.

Diamond repeated the riddle.

“Oh! that's easy enough,” he returned. “It's a tree.”

“Well, it ain't got no mouth, sure enough; but how then does it eat all

day long?”

“It sucks in its food through the tiniest holes in its leaves,” he

answered. “Its breath is its food. And it can't do it except in the

daylight.”

“Thank you, sir, thank you,” returned Diamond. “I'm sorry I couldn't

find it out myself; Mr. Raymond would have been better pleased with me.”

“But you needn't tell him any one told you.”

Diamond gave him a stare which came from the very back of the north

wind, where that kind of thing is unknown.

“That would be cheating,” he said at last.

“Ain't you a cabby, then?”

“Cabbies don't cheat.”

“Don't they? I am of a different opinion.”

“I'm sure my father don't.”

“What's your fare, young innocent?”

“Well, I think the distance is a good deal over three miles–that's two

shillings. Only father says sixpence a mile is too little, though we

can't ask for more.”

“You're a deep one. But I think you're wrong. It's over four miles–not

much, but it is.”

“Then that's half-a-crown,” said Diamond.

“Well, here's three shillings. Will that do?”

“Thank you kindly, sir. I'll tell my father how good you were to

me–first to tell me my riddle, then to put me right about the distance,

and then to give me sixpence over. It'll help father to get well again,

it will.”

“I hope it may, my man. I shouldn't wonder if you're as good as you

look, after all.”

As Diamond returned, he drew up at a stand he had never been on before:

it was time to give Diamond his bag of chopped beans and oats. The men

got about him, and began to chaff him. He took it all good-humouredly,

until one of them, who was an ill-conditioned fellow, began to tease old

Diamond by poking him roughly in the ribs, and making general game of

him. That he could not bear, and the tears came in his eyes. He undid

the nose-bag, put it in the boot, and was just going to mount and drive

away, when the fellow interfered, and would not let him get up. Diamond

endeavoured to persuade him, and was very civil, but he would have his

fun out of him, as he said. In a few minutes a group of idle boys had

assembled, and Diamond found himself in a very uncomfortable position.

Another cab drew up at the stand, and the driver got off and approached

the assemblage.

“What's up here?” he asked, and Diamond knew the voice. It was that of

the drunken cabman.

“Do you see this young oyster? He pretends to drive a cab,” said his

enemy.

“Yes, I do see him. And I sees you too. You'd better leave him alone. He

ain't no oyster. He's a angel come down on his own business. You be off,

or I'll be nearer you than quite agreeable.”

The drunken cabman was a tall, stout man, who did not look one to take

liberties with.

“Oh! if he's a friend of yours,” said the other, drawing back.

Diamond got out the nose-bag again. Old Diamond should have his feed out

now.

“Yes, he is a friend o' mine. One o' the best I ever had. It's a pity

he ain't a friend o' yourn. You'd be the better for it, but it ain't no

fault of hisn.”

When Diamond went home at night, he carried with him one pound one

shilling and sixpence, besides a few coppers extra, which had followed

some of the fares.

His mother had got very anxious indeed–so much so that she was almost

afraid, when she did hear the sound of his cab, to go and look, lest

she should be yet again disappointed, and should break down before her

husband. But there was the old horse, and there was the cab all right,

and there was Diamond in the box, his pale face looking triumphant as a

full moon in the twilight.

When he drew up at the stable-door, Jack came out, and after a good many

friendly questions and congratulations, said:

“You go in to your mother, Diamond. I'll put up the old 'oss. I'll take

care on him. He do deserve some small attention, he do.”

“Thank you, Jack,” said Diamond, and bounded into the house, and into

the arms of his mother, who was waiting him at the top of the stair.

The poor, anxious woman led him into his own room, sat down on his bed,

took him on her lap as if he had been a baby, and cried.

“How's father?” asked Diamond, almost afraid to ask.

“Better, my child,” she answered, “but uneasy about you, my dear.”

“Didn't you tell him I was the early bird gone out to catch the worm?”

“That was what put it in your head, was it, you monkey?” said his

mother, beginning to get better.

“That or something else,” answered Diamond, so very quietly that his

mother held his head back and stared in his face.

“Well! of all the children!” she said, and said no more.

“And here's my worm,” resumed Diamond.

But to see her face as he poured the shillings and sixpences and pence

into her lap! She burst out crying a second time, and ran with the money

to her husband.

And how pleased he was! It did him no end of good. But while he was

counting the coins, Diamond turned to baby, who was lying awake in his

cradle, sucking his precious thumb, and took him up, saying:

“Baby, baby! I haven't seen you for a whole year.”

And then he began to sing to him as usual. And what he sang was this,

for he was too happy either to make a song of his own or to sing sense.

It was one out of Mr. Raymond's book.

THE TRUE STORY OF THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE

               Hey, diddle, diddle!

               The cat and the fiddle!

            He played such a merry tune,

               That the cow went mad

               With the pleasure she had,

            And jumped right over the moon.

               But then, don't you see?

               Before that could be,

            The moon had come down and listened.

               The little dog hearkened,

               So loud that he barkened,

            “There's nothing like it, there isn't.”

               Hey, diddle, diddle!

               Went the cat and the fiddle,

            Hey diddle, diddle, dee, dee!

               The dog laughed at the sport

               Till his cough cut him short,

            It was hey diddle, diddle, oh me!

               And back came the cow

               With a merry, merry low,

            For she'd humbled the man in the moon.

               The dish got excited,

               The spoon was delighted,

            And the dish waltzed away with the spoon.

               But the man in the moon,

               Coming back too soon

            From the famous town of Norwich,

               Caught up the dish,

               Said, “It's just what I wish

            To hold my cold plum-porridge!”

                Gave the cow a rat-tat,

               Flung water on the cat,

            And sent him away like a rocket.

               Said, “O Moon there you are!”

                Got into her car,

            And went off with the spoon in his pocket

               Hey ho!  diddle, diddle!

               The wet cat and wet fiddle,

            They made such a caterwauling,

               That the cow in a fright

               Stood bolt upright

            Bellowing now, and bawling;

               And the dog on his tail,

               Stretched his neck with a wail.

            But “Ho! ho!” said the man in the moon–

               “No more in the South

               Shall I burn my mouth,

            For I've found a dish and a spoon.”

CHAPTER XXV. DIAMOND'S DREAM

“THERE, baby!” said Diamond; “I'm so happy that I can only sing

nonsense. Oh, father, think if you had been a poor man, and hadn't had a

cab and old Diamond! What should I have done?”

“I don't know indeed what you could have done,” said his father from the

bed.

“We should have all starved, my precious Diamond,” said his mother,

whose pride in her boy was even greater than her joy in the shillings.

Both of them together made her heart ache, for pleasure can do that as

well as pain.

“Oh no! we shouldn't,” said Diamond. “I could have taken Nanny's

crossing till she came back; and then the money, instead of going for

Old Sal's gin, would have gone for father's beef-tea. I wonder what

Nanny will do when she gets well again. Somebody else will be sure to

have taken the crossing by that time. I wonder if she will fight for it,

and whether I shall have to help her. I won't bother my head about that.

Time enough yet! Hey diddle! hey diddle! hey diddle diddle! I wonder

whether Mr. Raymond would take me to see Nanny. Hey diddle! hey diddle!

hey diddle diddle! The baby and fiddle! O, mother, I'm such a silly!

But I can't help it. I wish I could think of something else, but there's

nothing will come into my head but hey diddle diddle! the cat and the

fiddle! I wonder what the angels do–when they're extra happy, you

know–when they've been driving cabs all day and taking home the money

to their mothers. Do you think they ever sing nonsense, mother?”

“I daresay they've got their own sort of it,” answered his mother,

“else they wouldn't be like other people.” She was thinking more of her

twenty-one shillings and sixpence, and of the nice dinner she would get

for her sick husband next day, than of the angels and their nonsense,

when she said it. But Diamond found her answer all right.

“Yes, to be sure,” he replied. “They wouldn't be like other people

if they hadn't their nonsense sometimes. But it must be very pretty

nonsense, and not like that silly hey diddle diddle! the cat and the

fiddle! I wish I could get it out of my head. I wonder what the angels'

nonsense is like. Nonsense is a very good thing, ain't it, mother?–a

little of it now and then; more of it for baby, and not so much for

grown people like cabmen and their mothers? It's like the pepper and

salt that goes in the soup–that's it–isn't it, mother? There's baby

fast asleep! Oh, what a nonsense baby it is–to sleep so much! Shall I

put him down, mother?”

Diamond chattered away. What rose in his happy little heart ran out

of his mouth, and did his father and mother good. When he went to bed,

which he did early, being more tired, as you may suppose, than usual, he

was still thinking what the nonsense could be like which the angels

sang when they were too happy to sing sense. But before coming to

any conclusion he fell fast asleep. And no wonder, for it must be

acknowledged a difficult question.

That night he had a very curious dream which I think my readers would

like to have told them. They would, at least, if they are as fond of

nice dreams as I am, and don't have enough of them of their own.

He dreamed that he was running about in the twilight in the old garden.

He thought he was waiting for North Wind, but she did not come. So he

would run down to the back gate, and see if she were there. He ran and

ran. It was a good long garden out of his dream, but in his dream it

had grown so long and spread out so wide that the gate he wanted was

nowhere. He ran and ran, but instead of coming to the gate found himself

in a beautiful country, not like any country he had ever been in before.

There were no trees of any size; nothing bigger in fact than hawthorns,

which were full of may-blossom. The place in which they grew was wild

and dry, mostly covered with grass, but having patches of heath. It

extended on every side as far as he could see. But although it was so

wild, yet wherever in an ordinary heath you might have expected furze

bushes, or holly, or broom, there grew roses–wild and rare–all kinds.

On every side, far and near, roses were glowing. There too was the

gum-cistus, whose flowers fall every night and come again the next

morning, lilacs and syringas and laburnums, and many shrubs besides,

of which he did not know the names; but the roses were everywhere. He

wandered on and on, wondering when it would come to an end. It was of no

use going back, for there was no house to be seen anywhere. But he was

not frightened, for you know Diamond was used to things that were

rather out of the way. He threw himself down under a rose-bush, and fell

asleep.

He woke, not out of his dream, but into it, thinking he heard a child's

voice, calling “Diamond, Diamond!” He jumped up, but all was still about

him. The rose-bushes were pouring out their odours in clouds. He could

see the scent like mists of the same colour as the rose, issuing like

a slow fountain and spreading in the air till it joined the thin rosy

vapour which hung over all the wilderness. But again came the voice

calling him, and it seemed to come from over his head. He looked up, but

saw only the deep blue sky full of stars–more brilliant, however, than

he had seen them before; and both sky and stars looked nearer to the

earth.

While he gazed up, again he heard the cry. At the same moment he saw one

of the biggest stars over his head give a kind of twinkle and jump,

as if it went out and came in again. He threw himself on his back,

and fixed his eyes upon it. Nor had he gazed long before it went out,

leaving something like a scar in the blue. But as he went on gazing he

saw a face where the star had been–a merry face, with bright eyes.

The eyes appeared not only to see Diamond, but to know that Diamond had

caught sight of them, for the face withdrew the same moment. Again came

the voice, calling “Diamond, Diamond;” and in jumped the star to its

place.

Diamond called as loud as he could, right up into the sky:

“Here's Diamond, down below you. What do you want him to do?”

The next instant many of the stars round about that one went out, and

many voices shouted from the sky,–

“Come up; come up. We're so jolly! Diamond! Diamond!”

This was followed by a peal of the merriest, kindliest laughter, and all

the stars jumped into their places again.

“How am I to come up?” shouted Diamond.

“Go round the rose-bush. It's got its foot in it,” said the first voice.

Diamond got up at once, and walked to the other side of the rose-bush.

There he found what seemed the very opposite of what he wanted–a stair

down into the earth. It was of turf and moss. It did not seem to promise

well for getting into the sky, but Diamond had learned to look through

the look of things. The voice must have meant that he was to go down

this stair; and down this stair Diamond went, without waiting to think

more about it.

It was such a nice stair, so cool and soft–all the sides as well as the

steps grown with moss and grass and ferns! Down and down Diamond went–a

long way, until at last he heard the gurgling and splashing of a little

stream; nor had he gone much farther before he met it–yes, met it

coming up the stairs to meet him, running up just as naturally as if

it had been doing the other thing. Neither was Diamond in the least

surprised to see it pitching itself from one step to another as it

climbed towards him: he never thought it was odd–and no more it was,

there. It would have been odd here. It made a merry tune as it came, and

its voice was like the laughter he had heard from the sky. This appeared

promising; and he went on, down and down the stair, and up and up the

stream, till at last he came where it hurried out from under a stone,

and the stair stopped altogether. And as the stream bubbled up, the

stone shook and swayed with its force; and Diamond thought he would try

to lift it. Lightly it rose to his hand, forced up by the stream from

below; and, by what would have seemed an unaccountable perversion of

things had he been awake, threatened to come tumbling upon his head.

But he avoided it, and when it fell, got upon it. He now saw that the

opening through which the water came pouring in was over his head, and

with the help of the stone he scrambled out by it, and found himself

on the side of a grassy hill which rounded away from him in every

direction, and down which came the brook which vanished in the hole.

But scarcely had he noticed so much as this before a merry shouting and

laughter burst upon him, and a number of naked little boys came running,

every one eager to get to him first. At the shoulders of each fluttered

two little wings, which were of no use for flying, as they were mere

buds; only being made for it they could not help fluttering as if they

were flying. Just as the foremost of the troop reached him, one or two

of them fell, and the rest with shouts of laughter came tumbling over

them till they heaped up a mound of struggling merriment. One after

another they extricated themselves, and each as he got free threw his

arms round Diamond and kissed him. Diamond's heart was ready to melt

within him from clear delight. When they had all embraced him,–

“Now let us have some fun,” cried one, and with a shout they all

scampered hither and thither, and played the wildest gambols on the

grassy slopes. They kept constantly coming back to Diamond, however, as

the centre of their enjoyment, rejoicing over him as if they had found a

lost playmate.

There was a wind on the hillside which blew like the very embodiment

of living gladness. It blew into Diamond's heart, and made him so happy

that he was forced to sit down and cry.

“Now let's go and dig for stars,” said one who seemed to be the captain

of the troop.

They all scurried away, but soon returned, one after another, each with

a pickaxe on his shoulder and a spade in his hand. As soon as they were

gathered, the captain led them in a straight line to another part of the

hill. Diamond rose and followed.

“Here is where we begin our lesson for to-night,” he said. “Scatter and

dig.”

There was no more fun. Each went by himself, walking slowly with bent

shoulders and his eyes fixed on the ground. Every now and then one would

stop, kneel down, and look intently, feeling with his hands and parting

the grass. One would get up and walk on again, another spring to his

feet, catch eagerly at his pickaxe and strike it into the ground once

and again, then throw it aside, snatch up his spade, and commence

digging at the loosened earth. Now one would sorrowfully shovel the

earth into the hole again, trample it down with his little bare white

feet, and walk on. But another would give a joyful shout, and after

much tugging and loosening would draw from the hole a lump as big as his

head, or no bigger than his fist; when the under side of it would pour

such a blaze of golden or bluish light into Diamond's eyes that he was

quite dazzled. Gold and blue were the commoner colours: the jubilation

was greater over red or green or purple. And every time a star was

dug up all the little angels dropped their tools and crowded about it,

shouting and dancing and fluttering their wing-buds.

When they had examined it well, they would kneel down one after the

other and peep through the hole; but they always stood back to give

Diamond the first look. All that diamond could report, however, was,

that through the star-holes he saw a great many things and places and

people he knew quite well, only somehow they were different–there was

something marvellous about them–he could not tell what. Every time he

rose from looking through a star-hole, he felt as if his heart would

break for, joy; and he said that if he had not cried, he did not know

what would have become of him.

As soon as all had looked, the star was carefully fitted in again, a

little mould was strewn over it, and the rest of the heap left as a sign

that the star had been discovered.

At length one dug up a small star of a most lovely colour–a colour

Diamond had never seen before. The moment the angel saw what it was,

instead of showing it about, he handed it to one of his neighbours, and

seated himself on the edge of the hole, saying:

“This will do for me. Good-bye. I'm off.”

They crowded about him, hugging and kissing him; then stood back with a

solemn stillness, their wings lying close to their shoulders. The little

fellow looked round on them once with a smile, and then shot himself

headlong through the star-hole. Diamond, as privileged, threw himself

on the ground to peep after him, but he saw nothing. “It's no use,” said

the captain. “I never saw anything more of one that went that way.”

“His wings can't be much use,” said Diamond, concerned and fearful, yet

comforted by the calm looks of the rest.

“That's true,” said the captain. “He's lost them by this time. They all

do that go that way. You haven't got any, you see.”

“No,” said Diamond. “I never did have any.”

“Oh! didn't you?” said the captain.

“Some people say,” he added, after a pause, “that they come again. I

don't know. I've never found the colour I care about myself. I suppose I

shall some day.”

Then they looked again at the star, put it carefully into its hole,

danced around it and over it–but solemnly, and called it by the name of

the finder.

“Will you know it again?” asked Diamond.

“Oh, yes. We never forget a star that's been made a door of.”

Then they went on with their searching and digging.

Diamond having neither pickaxe nor spade, had the more time to think.

“I don't see any little girls,” he said at last.

The captain stopped his shovelling, leaned on his spade, rubbed his

forehead thoughtfully with his left hand–the little angels were all

left-handed–repeated the words “little girls,” and then, as if a

thought had struck him, resumed his work, saying–

“I think I know what you mean. I've never seen any of them, of course;

but I suppose that's the sort you mean. I'm told–but mind I don't say

it is so, for I don't know–that when we fall asleep, a troop of angels

very like ourselves, only quite different, goes round to all the stars

we have discovered, and discovers them after us. I suppose with our

shovelling and handling we spoil them a bit; and I daresay the clouds

that come up from below make them smoky and dull sometimes. They

say–mind, I say they say–these other angels take them out one by one,

and pass each round as we do, and breathe over it, and rub it with

their white hands, which are softer than ours, because they don't do any

pick-and-spade work, and smile at it, and put it in again: and that is

what keeps them from growing dark.”

“How jolly!” thought Diamond. “I should like to see them at their work

too.–When do you go to sleep?” he asked the captain.

“When we grow sleepy,” answered the captain. “They do say–but mind I

say they say–that it is when those others–what do you call them? I

don't know if that is their name; I am only guessing that may be the

sort you mean–when they are on their rounds and come near any troop of

us we fall asleep. They live on the west side of the hill. None of us

have ever been to the top of it yet.”

Even as he spoke, he dropped his spade. He tumbled down beside it,