20 THE OPEN 1 AIR. 



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 

 s ix 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 understand 

 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 

 Guido. " No one could find me ; if Paul were to look 

 all day he would never find me ; even Papa could 

 not find me. Now go on and tell me stories." 



"Ever so many times, when the oak the lightning 

 struck was young," said the Wheat, "great stags 

 used to come out of the wood and feed on the green 

 wheat ; it was -early in the morning when they came. 

 Such great stags, and so proud, and yet so timid, the 

 least thing made them go bound, bound, bound." 



