Snowy butted against Philip’s legs. She didn’t like so much attention being given to Kiki. Philip turned, and the little creature leapt straight into his arms. Trefor seemed most amused and sent out a flood of Welsh words that nobody could understand at all. He tapped Philip on the arm, and then pointed to the ground to show the children that he wanted them to sit down.
They sat down, wondering what he wanted. He went a little way down the hillside, making a soft baaing noise. From everywhere around the woolly lambs looked up. They came running to the shepherd, bleating, and even little Snowy left Philip and ran too. The shepherd knelt down and the lambs crowded round him, nuzzling against him. Trefor had had them when they were tiny — he had looked after them, even fed some of them from bottles if their mothers had died, — and when they heard his soft call that once they had known so well, they remembered and came to him, their first friend.
A lump came into Lucy-Ann’s throat. There was something very touching in the sight of that half-wild, dirty, long-haired old shepherd, calling to his lambs and being answered. Snowy the kid, eager to get close to him, leapt up on to the woolly backs of the lambs, and butted his head against him.
“Look at Snowy! Isn’t he a cheeky rascal of a kid!” said Dinah. “My goodness, you can hardly see Trefor now, he’s so surrounded by lambs!”
Trefor came back, smiling, his eyes very blue in his old brown face. He offered the children some bread and onions, but the onions were big and strong-smelling, and Jack felt certain Mrs. Mannering wouldn’t approve if they all came back smelling strongly of Trefor’s onions.
“No, thank you,” he said politely. “Will you be down to see your brother tomorrow, when he brings the donkeys?”
Trefor seemed to understand this. He nodded. “I come. Tomorrow. Donkeys.”
“Getting quite talkative, isn’t he?” said Jack to the others. “Right, Trefor. See you tomorrow then.”
They set off down the hill again. They stopped once more at the little spring to drink. They sat on the grass, looking at the towering mountains round them.
“Effans says that all those mountains over there have hardly anyone living on them, because they are difficult to get at,” said Jack. “I bet there are some interesting animals and birds there. Wish we could go and see.”
“I don’t see why we shouldn’t if Bill and Mother would come with us,” said Philip, trying to stop Snowy from walking on his middle. “Stop it, Snowy. Get off my tummy. Your hooves are sharp. It would be fun to go off into the mountains on donkeys and take food with us for a few days.”
“And have tents, do you mean?” said Jack. “I say — that’s an idea, Philip. We could take our cameras and get some fine pictures. I might see some rare birds.”
“I bet you would!” said Philip. “Hallo, here comes Sally Slither!”
Out of his pocket glided the slow-worm, and curled itself up in the crook of Philip’s elbow, in the sun. Dinah removed herself to a safe distance at once. Kiki looked down with interest from her perch on Jack’s shoulder.
“Sally Slither! What a nice name!” said Lucy-Ann, running her finger down the slow-worm’s silvery back. “Look — my finger’s tickling her — she’s going all dithery!”
“Slithery dithery,” said Kiki, at once. She had a real talent for putting together words of the same sound. “Dithery slithery, slithery dithery . . .”
“All right, all right,” said Philip. “We don’t want to hear it again, Kiki. You’re a clever old bird, we all know that. Jack, look at this slow-worm. It’s not a scrap frightened now.”
“I do think you’re mean to keep it,” began Dinah, from a safe distance. “You know how I hate snakes. All right, all right, I know it isn’t a snake — though I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if it bit me if I came near it, so there!”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at anything biting you when you’re so silly,” said Philip crossly. “I feel like biting you myself. Come here, Dinah. Run your finger down Sally Slither’s back — look at her sharp little eyes. . . .”
Dinah gave a scream. “I couldn’t bear it! No, don’t come near me, Philip. It’s worse than those awful white rats you had a few months ago. But at least they grew up and you let them go!”
“Sally can go whenever she wants to,” said Philip. “I never keep any pet when it wants to go. Do you want to go, Sally Slither?”
“Slithery dithery, musty dusty fusty,” said Kiki, trying to remember the various collections of words she had picked up at one time or another. “Huffin and puffin.”
“Come on — let’s go,” said Dinah. “Perhaps that horrible thing will go back into your pocket if we go. And I’m getting hungry.”
The slow-worm slid back somewhere in Philip’s clothes. He got up and Snowy bounded round him. “Now just see if you can walk without getting your head between my legs all the time,” said Philip to Snowy. “You’ll send me flying in a minute. You’re a bit too friendly at times, Snowy.”
They went back to the farm-house, enjoying the sunshine and the constant breeze that blew over the mountainside. By the time they reached the farm-house they were all terribly hungry, and visions of ham, chicken, salad and raspberries and cream kept coming into their minds.
Bill and Mrs. Mannering had been for a walk too, but down the mountain, not up. They had been back for a little while, and were just beginning to wonder where the children were. Snowy went bounding up to them.
“She’s a pet!” said Mrs. Mannering. “I suppose we shall have her at our heels the whole of this holiday now. It’s a pity kids have to grow up into goats. Don’t think you’re going to take Snowy back home with you, Philip. I’m not going to have a goat in the garden, while you’re at school, eating the vegetables out of the beds, and the clothes off the line!”
“Mother, Trefor says his brother will arrive at the farm-house tomorrow with the donkeys,” said Philip. “Can we each choose our own? How many will there be?”
“Yes, you can choose your own if you want to,” said Mrs. Mannering. “I don’t know how many there will be — six I suppose. I only hope I choose a sure-footed one!”
“They’ll all be sure-footed,” said Jack. “As sure-footed as goats. But not so leapy. I shouldn’t care to ride one of these mountain goats, and find myself leaping about from rock to rock.”
“Good gracious, what a horrible thought!” said Mrs. Mannering. “I shall choose the quietest, staidest, placidest, best-tempered donkey of the lot — one without a single bound or leap in him.”
Everyone laughed. Effans came over to them, beaming to see them happy. “It iss dinner-time,” he said. “Mrs. Effans has it ready.”
“I shall soon begin to talk in a sing-song voice myself,” said Lucy-Ann, getting up from the stone wall. “Indeed to gootness I shall!”
They all laughed at the up-and-down way she spoke. Snowy galloped ahead into the kitchen. Mrs. Evans didn’t seem to mind at all, but she shooed him down when he leapt into a chair. A hen scuttled out from under the table. Kiki went up to a rafter, sat on a ham wrapped up in a cloth, and cocked her eye down to the table to see what fruit there was.
“Pop goes the weasel,” she announced, and made a popping noise like a cork coming out of a bottle. Effans looked up in admiration.
“Such a bird!” he said. “Never have I seen such a bird, look you!”
Kiki began hiccupping, and Effans went off into a screech of laughter. Mrs. Mannering frowned.
“Kiki! Stop that! How many times am I to tell you I don’t like that noise?”
“How many times have I told you to wipe your feet?” retorted Kiki, and screeched. Effans almost died of laughter. Kiki began to show off, snapping her beak open and shut, putting her crest up and down and making peculiar noises.
“Kiki! Come here!” said Jack sternly, and Kiki flew down to his shoulder. Jack tapped her smartly on her beak. “Any more nonsense from you and I’ll shut you in the bedroom upstairs. Bad bird! Silly bird!”
“Poor Polly! Bad Polly!” said Kiki, and nipped Jack’s ear. He smacked her on the beak again.
“Be quiet! Not another word!” he ordered. Kiki put her head under her wing in disgrace, and various whispering sounds came to everyone’s ears. But nobody could hear what she said, though Effans strained his big ears hopefully. What a bird! He wished he could have one like it.