As they stood motionless the little creature did indeed come frolicking downwards from bough to bough, pausing to glance at them, leaping away in feigned terror, returning for closer inspection, then, evidently deciding that they were not, and could never have been, alive, and were, in consequence, not dangerous, sitting up, chattering, a yard or two above their heads. He was presently joined by a friend, or it might be a rival; a lively discussion ensued, a mad scamper, a protracted chase, the two finally disappearing in the inner depths of the wood. “Let’s go,” said Alice. She had been amused and interested, but felt nevertheless somewhat disappointed. This was the strangest courting she had ever heard of: it seemed hardly worth while to have walked three miles on a Sunday afternoon merely to watch the antics of a couple of squirrels. But Adam was perfectly happy; for the first time since he had left the Warren he found himself in his element and at ease. “If you do know how to treat ’em, birds and beasts is tame enough,” he remarked. “There, the very varmint ’ull be friendly wi’ you. There was a wold weasel yonder in the Warren what did use to have reg’lar games wi’ me. He knowed I were arter him, d’ye see, and he were that cunnin’ he did lead I a dance for months and months. I do ’low the creature ’j’yed it. When I did take en out o’ the gin at last he did grin up in my face as if he were a-sayin’ ‘ye be upsides wi’ me at last, wold chap!’--I could a’most have found it in my heart to let him go, but I dursn’t, along o’ my father. Hush, look!” A green woodpecker was climbing up the tree near which they had halted; the pair watched him until he took wing, and then pursued their way. Alice’s heart was sinking more and more; she yawned once or twice in a frank, undisguised way, and walked ever more slowly. “Hark!” cried Adam jubilantly, “the cuckoo. ’Tis the first time I’ve heard en--he be late to-year.” “Have ye got any money about ye?” inquired Alice eagerly. “Turn it round quick, if ye have.” “What for?” “Why, for luck, sure. Didn’t ye know that? You must turn your money first time you do hear cuckoo cry so as you’ll have plenty more to-year.” Adam’s fingers dropped from the waistcoat pocket where they had been vaguely fumbling. “What’s money to me?” he muttered, as, with head thrown back and brows frowning with eagerness, he followed the course of certain black specks which at that moment were flying high over the wood. “Wild duck!” he remarked presently. Alice turned on him in desperation. “Well, I be a-goin’ for to sit down,” she remarked. “I’ve a-brought a bit o’ summat to eat wi’ me.” She produced from the little basket which she had carried sundry slices of cake which she offered to Baverstock. “I did bring seed-cake a-purpose because you did say you liked it best,” she observed in an expectant tone. But Adam’s dark eyes continued to rove even while he ate, and his only response was inconsequent enough:--