the stranger ignored him, and felt quite assured that his honour was satisfied. This little by-play amused Barron, to whom all the creatures on the farm were individuals, and individually interesting.
After guttering in the puddle for a few seconds with his strong black bill Michael stretched himself to his full height, scanned the sky overhead, and gave a long, resonant call of honka-honka-honka-honka-honka-honka-honk. Then he listened intently, as if expecting an answer out of the blue.
In a second or two an answer came; but not such a one as he expected, and neither did it come from the sky. From behind the cow-shed at the further end of the farm-yard, waddling hurriedly, appeared a big white gander, followed by three geese, two of whom were pied grey-and-white, while the third was clear grey, and somewhat slenderer in build than her companions. In that long call of Michael's, for all its strangeness and its wildness, the white gander had recognized something of kinship, and at the same time something of challenge to his supremacy. When he saw the tall, dark form of the stranger, erect and watchful beside the watering-trough, he gave vent to a harsh scream of defiance and rushed forwards, with uplifted wings and with open bill, to chase the intruder from his premises.
Recognizing the white gander as, in a way, one of his own kind, Michael eyed him, for a second
