I open the door, and rush out into the night, Bob at my heels, and
shrieks and laughter resounding in my ears.
Out and away--anywhere, to be free of that uncanny hut.
A big round moon is shining now, and the weird pine-trees are casting
weird shadows on the moorland.
Look, though, is that a pine-tree?
No, it is a tall figure, in Highland garb, with a long crook, which it
grasps high up, the plaid depending from the uplifted arm.
"Yap, yap, yap--"
That is the collie's bark, and yonder figure is no doubt that of his
master. He advances, and the moon shimmers brightly on the pleasant
face and snow-white beard of an old man.
"Welcome, stranger. You've lost your way. My dog came to tell me.
Come back and share my humble supper, then I will conduct you home."
I thought it strange to be addressed in such good English. But I was
not reassured. Was this a wizard, or a spectre--the spirit of this
haunted wood?
"Back!" I cried, with a shudder; "back among goblins!"
"Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed, and I could not help noticing that his laugh
was precisely the same as that I had heard in the hut.
"Pardon me," he said, "but my cockatoos have been talking to you from
behind the scenes. Come back, sir, it is all right. See, our dogs are
playing together."
That was true. Bob and the collie were already the best of friends.
From the very moment he mentioned the word "cockatoos," I felt somewhat
ashamed of myself.
So back I went, and shared the shepherd's soup, and we were soon
enjoying a very interesting conversation.
I told him all about myself and caravan, and he explained who he was. A
shepherd by choice, because a lover of Nature. A wizard according to
some, a poet according to others, because his verses which, he said,
were as rough as the heather and the granite rocks on the hillside,
found _entree_ to the Glasgow papers. After supper, he lit a great
oil-lamp: we had hitherto had only the fire-light.
Then he pulled aside a screen, and lo! and behold, a dozen at least of
cages, each containing a cockatoo, and one a starling.
"What is it? What _is_ it?" said this latter.
"Nothing much, Dick. But you've frightened this stranger."
"Strange!" said Dick.
The old shepherd opened the cage-door, and out flew the bird, and
straight on to the supper-table.
"Professor Dick," said my host, "won't say another word till he has
finished his meal."
"Professor Dick, you call him?"
"Yes, and I may as well tell you at once how I live and how I manage to
get warm clothing, good food, and plenty of books."
"I see your library is a most extensive one," I put in.
"It is, for a poor man. I am a hermit by choice; I live all alone in
these wilds; I am rent-free, because I have the charge of sheep, and I
dearly love the solitudes around me.
"The house or hut I occupy I call Professor Dick's Academy. Dick is my
all in all. The collie comes next in my affections.
"But Dick maintains us."
"Dick maintains you?"
"Yes, you see all these cockatoos? Well, Dick trains them all to speak.
And he trains them tricks, he and I between us. Without Dick I would
be nowhere, and perhaps Dick would go to the bad without me."
"But what becomes of the cockatoos?"
"I sell them. That is the secret of our wealth and happiness. They are
Australian hard-bill crestless cockatoos. I pay thirty shillings for
each of them. I sell them for ten and even fifteen pounds. There is
one there, forty years of age; the most wonderful bird in all the world.
Rothschild is very rich, sir, and so is Vanderbilt, but neither possess
money to buy that darling bird. No, nor Dick either. But here comes
the Professor."
The bird came hopping towards me, jumped up, perched on the back of a
straw chair, and eyed me curiously for quite a minute, using first one
eye, then the other, as if to make quite sure of diagnosing me properly.
I thought him somewhat brusque and peculiar at first. He asked me three
questions in rapid succession, but gave me no time to answer: "Who are
you? What do ye want? Are you hungry?" The Professor and I, however,
soon settle down to steady conversation, and talked on all kinds of
topics, as freely as if we had known each other for years. Only, like
the dictionary, Dick was apt to change his subject rather frequently.
I must say, however, that this pretty bird was the cleverest and best
talker I have ever known or heard. There positively seemed no end to
his vocabulary, and the ridiculously amusing remarks he made would, I
believe, have caused a horse to smile.
"In the name of goodness," I was fain to exclaim at last to my host, "is
this really a bird, or is it some sprite or fay you have picked up in
the depths of this weird forest?"
The old shepherd seemed pleased. He nodded and smiled to Dick, and the
bird waxed more boisterous and funny than ever.
"I begin to think," I said, "that I have got into some house of
enchantment, and that nothing around me is real."
The shepherd put Professor Dick to bed at last, and conducted me safely
over the moor. He promised to call for us next day, and take us back to
the cottage in the forest to hear the Professor teaching his class.
There had been anxious hearts in the caravan during my absence, but Bob
went bounding away in front of me to announce my arrival.
Frank was dressed and ready to go off to seek me, stick in hand and
plaid across his manly shoulders. But all is well that ends well.