But there was something more pleasant than guns and spears and stories. Outside the castle, in little houses built of wood, with doors and windows of netted wire, were a number of pets, as foxes, rabbits and squirrels. To these Robin was greatly devoted, he fed them regularly with his own hand, and kept their dwellings sweet and clean. In a grassy enclosure where their little cotes stood, he let them have liberty every day, watching over them carefully, that no harm should come from savage beasts or birds of prey. He had also other pets--a white pony, big dogs and little ones, and beautiful birds--which he loved much and tended faithfully. So that among all these companions Robin passed much of his time very happily, even more so than when accompanying friendly Indians shooting game in the wild woods miles away, or fishing from a canoe in Lake Ontario. A boy that is truly kind to animals will love men and, of course, boys. This quality and what was brave and honest shone plainly in his clear, blue eyes, as they shine in all kinds of eyes that have them. Unspoiled by city dainties, and clad in the grey shooting suit which he usually wore, he looked strong, active and healthy. Yet Robin had at times a dreamy, meditative look. Away from the stir and hum and engagement of city life, he dwelt in a kind of fairy-land, where flowers and trees and solitary paths called forth quiet questionings and aroused reflection, gilded by mystery and imagination. The tales of Indian life, and the stories of mighty giants and magic-working fairies, told and read in the quaint castle in the evenings, cultivated the growth of his imaginative mind. So that, mingled with his natural brightness and activity, there were moods that occasionally carried him under the shade of some elm or maple tree, to sit and see pictures of wonderful creatures in the beauty and melancholy of nature all around. For this reason his loving mother called him _Inabandang_, a dreamer of dreams. CHAPTER II. FAIRYLAND. With the woodland fairies I can talk, I can list their silver lays; Oh! pleasant in a lonely walk Is the company of fays. _Havergal._ The ravine adjoining the castle was a mysterious looking place, dark with dense underwood, the haunt of wild beasts and the home of numberless birds, now sending forth awful cries and inspiring songs, then silent as the grave. A tortuous difficult pathway in the hollow extended along its length, while one or two animal tracks in the neighborhood crossed it from side to side. A few grassy spaces here and there slightly relieved the gloom, while a small stream of water moved slowly along its base, now forming into pools where little fishes leaped, then gradually unwinding itself and stealing softly on under a wealth of branches and green leaves.