The Open Air 



walked out into it. He had an iron helmet on, and 

 he was wounded, and his blood stained the green 

 wheat red as he walked. He tried to get to the 

 streamlet, which was wider then, Guido dear, to 

 drink, for he knew it was there, but he could not 

 reach it. He fell down and died in the green wheat, 

 dear, for he was very much hurt with a sharp spear, 

 but more so with hunger and thirst/' 



" I am so sorry/' said Guido; " and now I look 

 at you, why you are all thirsty and dry, you nice old 

 Wheat, and the ground is as dry as dry under you; 

 I will get you something to drink." 



And down he scrambled into the ditch, setting his 

 foot firm on a root, for though he was so young, he 

 knew how to get down to the water without wetting 

 his feet, or falling in, and how to climb up a tree, 

 and everything jolly. Guido dipped his hand in the 

 streamlet, and flung the water over the wheat, five or 

 six good sprinklings till the drops hung on the wheat- 

 ears. Then he said, " Now you are better." 



" Yes, dear, thank you, my love," said the Wheat, 

 who was very pleased, though of course the water 

 was not enough to wet its roots. Still it was pleasant, 

 like a very little shower. Guido lay down on his 

 chest this time, with his elbows on the ground, 

 propping his head up, and as he now faced the wheat 

 he could see in between the stalks. 



" Lie still," said the Wheat, " the corncrake is not 

 very far off, he has come up here since your papa told 

 the mowers to mow the meadow, and very likely if you 

 stay quiet you will see him. If you do not under- 

 stand all I say, never mind, dear; the sunshine is 

 warm, but not too warm in the shade, and we all love 

 you, and want you to be as happy as ever you can be." 



" It is jolly to be quite hidden like this," said 



22 



