"He's our sheep-dog, and Jonas is the shepherd," replied Gratian. "They're sometimes alone with the sheep for days and days--out on the moors. It's so strange--I've been with them sometimes--it's like another world--to see the moors all round, ever so far, like the sea, I suppose--only I've never seen the sea--and not a creature anywhere, except some wild birds sometimes." "Stop," said Fergus, closing his eyes; "yes, I can see it now. Go on, Gratian--is the sky gray, or blue with little white clouds?" "Gray just now," said the boy, "and there's no wind that you can feel blowing. But it's coming--you know it's coming--now and then Watch pricks up his ears, for he can tell it much farther off than we can, and old Jonas pats him a little. Jonas has an old blue round cap--a shepherd's cap--and his face is browny-red, but his hair is nearly white, and his eyes are very blue. Can you see him, Fergus? And the sheep keep on browsing--they make a little scrumping noise when you are quite, quite close to them. And just before the wind really comes a great bird gives a cry--up, very high up--and it swoops down for a moment and then goes up again, till it looks just a little black speck against the sky. And all the time you know the wind is coming. Can you see it all, Fergus?" "All," said the boy; "it's beautiful. You must tell me pictures often, Gratian, till I can go out again. I never had any one who could make them come so, except mother's music--they come with that. Haven't you noticed that they come with music?" "I don't know," said Gratian. "I've never seen any real pictures--painted ones in big gold frames." "There are some here," said Fergus; "not very many, but some. I like a few of them--perhaps you will too. But I like the pictures that come and go in one's fancy best. That's the kind that mother's music brings me." "Yes," said Gratian, his eyes sparkling, "I understand." "I was sure you would," said Fergus, with a tiny touch of patronising in his tone, which Gratian was too entirely single-minded to see, or rather perhaps to object to if he did see it. "I knew the minute I saw you, you'd suit me. I'm very glad that other fellow didn't come instead of you. But, by the bye, you haven't told me about that--mother said you'd tell me." Gratian related the story of his satchel of stones. Fergus was boy enough to laugh a little, though he called it a mean trick; but when Gratian told of having found his books again, he looked puzzled. "How could you find them?" he asked. "It was nearly dark, didn't you say?"