"That's what I think too, gentlemen," whispered Dan. "I have been to 'Stralia--Sydney, you know, where chaps go out shepherding and don't see anything but the woolly ones sometimes for three months together, and I have heard as some of them quite goes off their heads, miserable and lonely like, for they have nobody to talk to but the sheep." "But this isn't Australia," said Mark. "And this fellow hasn't been with sheep," added Dean, "but ponies." "No, sir," said Dan; "but horses do just as well." "That they wouldn't," cried Mark. "A man who had horses with him could make companions of them." "Yes," cried Dean, "and have a good long ride every now and then." "To be sure," added Mark. "A man who had a horse or a dog for companion could not go off his head. Look at Robinson Crusoe; he was jolly enough with a poll parrot." "Oh, yes, sir; but then a poll parrot could talk." "Yes, but he had to teach it first," said Dean. "Yes, sir," said Dan, "but you couldn't teach a sheep. Why, if you had one of them for years you would never get anything out of him but Baa!" "Bah, then, to what you are saying," cried Mark. "Here, I say, you, sir," he cried, looking in an amused way at their visitor, who had finished his clipping, pocketed his scissors, and had taken hold of his moustachios as if they were reins and stroked them down with a twist, looking dolefully at those about him the while; "I'll answer for it that we give you some breakfast, and then you had better be off." The man shook his head. "Eh? What do you mean by that?" said Mark. The man shook his head again and took out his scissors as if about to begin clipping once more, but bethought himself and put them back. Dan chuckled as if he thought it was very good fun, and Buck bent down and whispered something in the little fellow's ear. "Here, what's that?" cried Mark sharply. "He means he's going to stop to dinner, sir." It was said quite in a whisper, but the man proved that he was keen enough of ear. "That's so," he said mournfully, as if the dinner would be a punishment. "What, you mean to stay to dinner?" The man nodded, paused for a few moments, and then with a heavy sigh-- "Yes." "Well, you are a cucumber," said Mark, "upon my word!" "Not in season," said the man. "Cheek!" said Dean laughing. The man looked up sharply. "Bacon," he said sadly; and there was an explosion of laughter. "Bob isn't here; but you are a queer fellow," said Mark. "Yes," said the man; and he looked from one to the other, and sighed again. "Here, I say," continued Mark, "where does it hurt you?" "Hurt me?" replied the man. "Yes. Inside? Are you in pain?" The man shook his head. "My way," he said, and he sighed again. "Well, don't talk like that." "Eh? No," said the man; and he reached out his hand to pass it over the muzzle of one of the ponies that had raised its head from where it had been cropping the green shoots of a dwarf shrub.