There is a picture of a snake-charmer in this, he exclaimed. Come
and look at it.
The book was a beautiful one with superb colored illustrations and he
turned to one of them.
Can he do that? he asked eagerly.
He played on his pipe and they listened, Mary explained. But he
doesn t call it Magic. He says it s because he lives on the moor so
much and he knows their ways. He says he feels sometimes as if he was a
bird or a rabbit himself, he likes them so. I think he asked the robin
questions. It seemed as if they talked to each other in soft chirps.
Colin lay back on his cushion and his eyes grew larger and larger and
the spots on his cheeks burned.
Tell me some more about him, he said.
He knows all about eggs and nests, Mary went on. And he knows where
foxes and badgers and otters live. He keeps them secret so that other
boys won t find their holes and frighten them. He knows about
everything that grows or lives on the moor.
Does he like the moor? said Colin. How can he when it s such a
great, bare, dreary place?
It s the most beautiful place, protested Mary. Thousands of lovely
things grow on it and there are thousands of little creatures all busy
building nests and making holes and burrows and chippering or singing
or squeaking to each other. They are so busy and having such fun under
the earth or in the trees or heather. It s their world.
How do you know all that? said Colin, turning on his elbow to look at
her.
I have never been there once, really, said Mary suddenly remembering.
I only drove over it in the dark. I thought it was hideous. Martha
told me about it first and then Dickon. When Dickon talks about it you
feel as if you saw things and heard them and as if you were standing in
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