_More Adventures_
IT really was a delightful country to live in. There was no need to ask
your way to anywhere--you just went. Almost before he knew where he was
George found himself back in front of the little house.
Smoke was still curling up from the chimneys, so somebody must have been
putting more coal on the fire--at least, it would seem so.
It was quite time for dinner; and, sure enough, dinner was ready. It
doesn't matter what George had to eat--it would make you feel both hungry
and cross if you knew.
When the meal was over George thought it was quite time to follow his
fortune, but where and what was it?
"Oh, Alexander shall show me the way," he said, and he stepped outside
into the garden, where that always hungry creature was cracking a large
bone.
"Alexander, I mean to follow my fortune," he said, "but I don't know where
it is. Can you help me?"
To his surprise, Alexander looked up, wagged his tail, and then said quite
as plain as could be: "All right; let me finish this bone and then I'll
come!"
George stared at him. "Can you _really_ talk, Alexander?"
"Talk? Of course I can talk," he replied. "Who ever heard of a dog who
couldn't talk? I've talked to you ever since I've known you, only I don't
talk like a boy. I talk like a dog."
This was quite true, for he still had a 'doggy' voice, and there was a
sound of "_Wuff, wuff!_" in everything he said.
"Good gracious!" cried George. "I never knew you were talking. I thought
you were only barking."
"Well, barking _is_ talking. What would be the use of my barking if it
meant nothing?" replied Alexander rather crossly, for he hated to be
interrupted in the middle of a meal. "Sit down a minute and then I shall
be ready."
George sat down and waited quietly. It was quite still everywhere; there
was a soft little breeze which was just enough to set the flowers in the
garden nodding their heads. It kissed George gently on the cheek, and then
gave a puff which made the golden weathercock on the roof-top turn round
and round until it must have become giddy.
"Now I'm ready," said Alexander, licking his lips and brushing his
whiskers carefully, in case there might still be a fragment left of his
meal.
"Alexander, can you tell me whose house this is?" George asked.
"Whose house?" said Alexander. "Why, _you_ know. It's written on the door."
"Yes, I know that; but who is this Mr George?"
"You are, of course," laughed Alexander, and gave a jump of delight. "You
are! Fancy not knowing that it was your own house! Ha, ha! What fun!" and
he began running after his own tail, faster and faster, until he looked
like a black Catherine wheel.
"Oh, I say!" cried George. "_My_ house! Oh, I wish I could bring Father
and Mother to see it. Can't I send them an invitation to tea? But I don't
see a letter-box anywhere, and I can't write a proper letter. Can you?"
"No!" replied Alexander. "I don't want to. I don't know why people want
to write letters at all when they can go for walks and talk to one
another--and have games and meals," he added.
"Oh, well, I must just tell them all about it when we get back again. Now
we had better start for--you know, wherever my fortune is."
Alexander looked round him for a moment. "I think I know the way, but we
may as well ask the weathercock, so as to be quite sure."
"Ask the weathercock? How can that help us?" George was becoming quite
puzzled.
Alexander said nothing, but gave a short, sharp bark. There was a faint
"_Cock-a-doodle-doo!_" from the roof in reply; then--could George believe
his eyes?--the golden cock stepped off his little perch and fluttered down
to their feet.
He _was_ a smart little bird! All gold from the comb on his head to the
spurs on his feet, and he twinkled and shone so in the sunshine that he
was quite dazzling to look at. He flapped his wings, pecked Alexander
playfully behind the ear, and then crowed: "_Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo-oo!_"
and it sounded for all the world as if he were saying: "How do you
do-oo-oo?"
"George is going to follow his fortune," said Alexander. "Can you put us
on the right road?"
"I'd better come with you for part of the way," replied the weathercock.
"It's just along down there."
"How do you know the way so well, please?" asked George.
"I know the way to everywhere. A brother of mine stands on the roof of
your home. Haven't you ever seen him point?"
"Yes, of course," said George; "I've often stood and watched him turning
round and round."
"Well, you don't suppose he's doing that for fun, do you?" asked the cock,
looking at him with a bright and shining red eye. "He's pointing out the
way."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Well, he's pointing out the way to _there_.... Every one wants to go
there, some time or other. If _you_ don't want to go, why did you ask me?"
"Come along!" said Alexander. "George will understand by and by. He's a
stranger here, you know."
The weathercock strutted on ahead of them, and George and Alexander
followed.
"_He_ can talk too," said George. "Everybody seems able to talk here."
"Of course," replied Alexander. "Why shouldn't they? Everything and
everybody talks in its own way if you only know how to listen. Why, the
wind's talking all the time. Can't you hear it?"
George stood still and listened. "It does seem to be saying something. It
sounds just like: '_Oh-oo! Oh-oo!_'"
Alexander laughed--such a funny, wuffy laugh. "It's humming a tune to the
trees. Can't you see them nodding their heads in time to the music? If the
wind were angry they would be shivering and shaking with fright. Perhaps
it will talk to us by and by."
"Come on!" cried the cock, looking round, "I have to get back to work or
else the wind will be coming along and scolding me for wasting time."
They walked along down a winding path, up a little hill, down another, and
there in front stood a post with a large finger pointing straight ahead.
"Here you are!" said the cock. "Go straight on until you arrive
there. The weather will be quite fine, and your fortune is waiting for
you. If you want to get back ask any of my family you may meet and
they will show you the way. Good-bye!" He flapped his wings, crowed
"_Cock-a-doodle-doo!_" and disappeared.
George went up to the finger-post, and there, printed on it in large
letters, was: "THIS WAY TO ONCE-UPON-A-TIME."
"Another adventure!" he cried. "Come on, Alexander!"--but Alexander was
already scampering down the road, barking joyfully.
[Illustration]
FOLLOW YOUR FORTUNE
WEATHERCOCK, oh, weathercock,
_Cock-a-doodle-doo!_
Shall I find the road I seek
If I follow you?
Turning, turning, ever turning
North, south, east, and west;
Weathercock, oh, weathercock,
Which way is the best?
Pointing, pointing, ever pointing
With your golden bill.
Does the road to fortune lead me
Up or down the hill?
[Illustration]