THE PEEWIT'S HOME 171 



grass, in which the flock might stay and feed all day 

 unseen. To this point the invaders hurry, and in ten 

 minutes have plunged into the hollow and disappeared. 

 The shepherd and his dog lie down above them, and 

 contemplate at their ease the success of their stratagem, 

 ready to drive the flock unseen from the hollow on to 

 the track on the appearance of danger. Though 

 evidently an old offender, the shepherd is a stranger, 

 so far as we can tell through the glasses ; so we decide to 

 trust to being mistaken for tourists, and thus endeavour 

 to capture the robbers at their meal. 



As we wander carelessly down the track the shepherd 

 rises, and leaning on his staff, reconnoitres us with the 

 keen eyes of a born son of the hills. The dog trots 

 forward, and with one paw raised watches us also, ready 

 at a sign from his master to rush back to the hollow 

 and drive the sheep on to the track. " Towerists, for 

 zartain," remarks the shepherd to himself, and prepares 

 for a wayside chat. The collie, only partly convinced 

 by his master's attitude, gives a short, defiant yelp, and 

 trots back to heel. As we reach the edge of the hollow, 

 we see the flock making the best of their time, eagerly 

 pulling out and chewing the grass, and expanding in a 

 rapidly widening circle up the sloping sides. The 

 glimpse of the predatory side of an Arcadian exist- 

 ence becomes amusing. We feel that the approaching 

 dialogue should take a classic form 



VIATOR. " Tell me, shepherd, whose flock is this ? 

 Is it Melibceus' ? " 



SHEPHERD (politely, but conscious of being better 



