THE SHEPHERD OF THE HILLS
wants somebody. Hear her callin', callin', callin'? He'll sure come some day, Mister; he sure will. Say, do you know where he is?"
The stranger, startled, drew back; "No, no, my boy, certainly not; what do you mean; who are you?"
Like the moaning of the pines came the reply, "Nothin', Mister, nobody can't mean nothin', can they? I'm jest nobody. But Pete lives in here; ask Pete."
"Is Pete watching the sheep?" asked Mr. Howitt, anxious to divert the boy's mind to other channels.
"Yes, we're a tendin' 'em now; but they can't trust us, you know; when they call Pete, he just goes, and course I've got to go 'long."
"Who is it calls Pete?"
"Why, they, don't you know? I 'lowed you knowed about things. They called Pete last night. The moonlight things was out, and all the shadow things; didn't you see them, Mister? The moonlight things, the wind, the stars, the shadow things, and all the rest played with Pete in the shiny mists, and, course, I was along. Didn't you hear singin'? Pete he always sings that a way, when the moonlight things is out. Seems like he just can't help it."
"But what becomes of the sheep when Pete goes away?"
The boy shook his head sadly; "Sometimes they get so lost that Young Matt can't never find 'em;
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