But they ran, and they ran--through the gate and out into the lane; and the guinea-fowl still ran on before them, until, turning round a corner, they lost sight of it, and immediately saw something else, equally curious. Sitting on the top of a big thistle--so big that he must have had to climb it just like a tree--was the Brownie. His legs were crossed, and his arms too, his little brown cap was stuck knowingly on one side, and he was laughing heartily. "How do you do? Here I am again. I thought I wouldn't go to bed after all. Shall I help you to find the ducklings? Very well! come along." They crossed the field, Brownie running beside them, and as fast as they could, though he looked such an old man; and sometimes turning over on legs and arms like a Catherine wheel--which they tried to imitate, but generally failed, and only bruised their fingers and noses. He lured them on and on till they came to the wood, and to a green path in it, which well as they knew the neighborhood, none of the children had ever seen before. It led to a most beautiful pond, as clear as crystal and as blue as the sky. Large trees grew round it, dipping their branches in the water, as if they were looking at themselves in a glass. And all about their roots were quantities of primroses--the biggest primroses the little girls had ever seen. Down they dropped on their fat knees, squashing more primroses than they gathered, though they tried to gather them all; and the smallest child even began to cry because her hands were so full that the flowers dropped through her fingers. But the boys, older and more practical, rather despised primroses. "I thought we had come to look for ducklings," said the eldest. "Mother is fretting dreadfully about her ducklings. Where can they be?" "Shut your eyes, and you'll see," said the Brownie, at which they all laughed, but did it; and when they opened their eyes again, what should they behold but a whole fleet of ducklings sailing out from the roots of an old willow-tree, one after the other, looking as fat and content as possible, and swimming as naturally as if they had lived on a pond--and this particularly pond, all their days. "Count them," said the Brownie, "the whole eight--quite correct. And then try and catch them--if you can." Easier said than done. The boys set to work with great satisfaction--boys do so enjoy hunting something. They coaxed them--they shouted at them--they threw little sticks at them; but as soon as they wanted them to go one way the fleet of ducklings immediately turned round and sailed another way, doing it so deliberately and majestically, that the children could not help laughing. As for little Brownie, he sat on a branch of the willow-tree, with his legs dangling down to the surface of the pond, kicking at the water-spiders, and grinning with all his might. At length, quite tired out, in spite of their fun, the children begged for his help, and he took compassion on them.