We saw no men at first. Pigs there were, fat and contented, which
rooted idly or wallowed along the stream, and fowls strolled among
the huts. I saw one peer into an open door, raise one claw slowly
as if she was going in, and then turn and fly, cackling wildly, as
if some inmate had thrown something at her.
"That is brother Fergus," said our guide. "The more he throws
things at the hens, the more they pester him. It is half a loaf
this time. See."
The hen had gone back into the doorway in a hurry, and now retired
behind the hut with the bread, to be joined there by hurrying
friends.
"The pigs will come in a minute," our hermit said, chuckling and
rubbing his hands together. "They know that Fergus hurls what comes
first without heed of what it may be."
He half stayed to watch, and then remembered that he was not alone
or with some of his brethren. We had been silent as we came, and he
had gone before us with the dog in front of him, musing. I think
that he had forgotten us.
"Pardon, prince," he said. "Year in and year out in this place we
have naught but these little haps to lighten our thoughts. We watch
for them, and are disappointed if we miss them. Ah, well, tonight
at least we shall have somewhat more wonderful of which to talk.
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