More Adventures

IT really was a delightful country to live in. There was no need to ask your way to anywhere—you just went. Almost before he knew where he was George found himself back in front of the little house.

Smoke was still curling up from the chimneys, so somebody must have been putting more coal on the fire—at least, it would seem so.

It was quite time for dinner; and, sure enough, dinner was ready. It doesn't matter what George had to eat—it would make you feel both hungry and cross if you knew.

When the meal was over George thought it was quite time to follow his fortune, but where and what was it?

"Oh, Alexander shall show me the way," he said, and he stepped outside into the garden, where that always hungry creature was cracking a large bone.

"Alexander, I mean to follow my fortune," he said, "but I don't know where it is. Can you help me?"

To his surprise, Alexander looked up, wagged his tail, and then said quite as plain as could be: "All right; let me finish this bone and then I'll come!"

George stared at him. "Can you really talk, Alexander?"

"Talk? Of course I can talk," he replied. "Who ever heard of a dog who couldn't talk? I've talked to you ever since I've known you, only I don't talk like a boy. I talk like a dog."

This was quite true, for he still had a 'doggy' voice, and there was a sound of "Wuff, wuff!" in everything he said.

"Good gracious!" cried George. "I never knew you were talking. I thought you were only barking."

"Well, barking is talking. What would be the use of my barking if it meant nothing?" replied Alexander rather crossly, for he hated to be interrupted in the middle of a meal. "Sit down a minute and then I shall be ready."

George sat down and waited quietly. It was quite still everywhere; there was a soft little breeze which was just enough to set the flowers in the garden nodding their heads. It kissed George gently on the cheek, and then gave a puff which made the golden weathercock on the roof-top turn round and round until it must have become giddy.

"Now I'm ready," said Alexander, licking his lips and brushing his whiskers carefully, in case there might still be a fragment left of his meal.

"Alexander, can you tell me whose house this is?" George asked.

"Whose house?" said Alexander. "Why, you know. It's written on the door."

"Yes, I know that; but who is this Mr George?"

"You are, of course," laughed Alexander, and gave a jump of delight. "You are! Fancy not knowing that it was your own house! Ha, ha! What fun!" and he began running after his own tail, faster and faster, until he looked like a black Catherine wheel.

"Oh, I say!" cried George. "My house! Oh, I wish I could bring Father and Mother to see it. Can't I send them an invitation to tea? But I don't see a letter-box anywhere, and I can't write a proper letter. Can you?"

"No!" replied Alexander. "I don't want to. I don't know why people want to write letters at all when they can go for walks and talk to one another—and have games and meals," he added.

"Oh, well, I must just tell them all about it when we get back again. Now we had better start for—you know, wherever my fortune is."

Alexander looked round him for a moment. "I think I know the way, but we may as well ask the weathercock, so as to be quite sure."

"Ask the weathercock? How can that help us?" George was becoming quite puzzled.

Alexander said nothing, but gave a short, sharp bark. There was a faint "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" from the roof in reply; then—could George believe his eyes?—the golden cock stepped off his little perch and fluttered down to their feet.

He was a smart little bird! All gold from the comb on his head to the spurs on his feet, and he twinkled and shone so in the sunshine that he was quite dazzling to look at. He flapped his wings, pecked Alexander playfully behind the ear, and then crowed: "Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo-oo!" and it sounded for all the world as if he were saying: "How do you do-oo-oo?"

"George is going to follow his fortune," said Alexander. "Can you put us on the right road?"

"I'd better come with you for part of the way," replied the weathercock. "It's just along down there."

"How do you know the way so well, please?" asked George.

"I know the way to everywhere. A brother of mine stands on the roof of your home. Haven't you ever seen him point?"

"Yes, of course," said George; "I've often stood and watched him turning round and round."

"Well, you don't suppose he's doing that for fun, do you?" asked the cock, looking at him with a bright and shining red eye. "He's pointing out the way."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Well, he's pointing out the way to there.... Every one wants to go there, some time or other. If you don't want to go, why did you ask me?"

"Come along!" said Alexander. "George will understand by and by. He's a stranger here, you know."

The weathercock strutted on ahead of them, and George and Alexander followed.

"He can talk too," said George. "Everybody seems able to talk here."

"Of course," replied Alexander. "Why shouldn't they? Everything and everybody talks in its own way if you only know how to listen. Why, the wind's talking all the time. Can't you hear it?"

George stood still and listened. "It does seem to be saying something. It sounds just like: 'Oh-oo! Oh-oo!'"

Alexander laughed—such a funny, wuffy laugh. "It's humming a tune to the trees. Can't you see them nodding their heads in time to the music? If the wind were angry they would be shivering and shaking with fright. Perhaps it will talk to us by and by."

"Come on!" cried the cock, looking round, "I have to get back to work or else the wind will be coming along and scolding me for wasting time."

They walked along down a winding path, up a little hill, down another, and there in front stood a post with a large finger pointing straight ahead.

"Here you are!" said the cock. "Go straight on until you arrive there. The weather will be quite fine, and your fortune is waiting for you. If you want to get back ask any of my family you may meet and they will show you the way. Good-bye!" He flapped his wings, crowed "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" and disappeared.

George went up to the finger-post, and there, printed on it in large letters, was: "THIS WAY TO ONCE-UPON-A-TIME."

"Another adventure!" he cried. "Come on, Alexander!"—but Alexander was already scampering down the road, barking joyfully.