But suddenly upon the stillness, from
somewhere amid the surrounding boskages that shut us in, came the
sound of one sighing gustily, and I sat up, peering.
"All right, friend," murmured the Tinker drowsily; "'tis only my
Diogenes!"
"And who is Diogenes?"
"My pony, for sure!"
"But why do you call him Diogenes?"
"Because Diogenes lived in a tub an'--he don't! Good night, young
friend! Never thought o' writing a nov-el, I s'pose?" he enquired
suddenly.
"Never! Why do you ask?"
"I met a young cove once, much like you only bigger, and this young
cove threatened to write a nov-el an' put me into it. That was years
ago, an' I've sold and read a good many nov-els since then, but never
came across myself in ever a one on 'em."
"Good night!" said I and very presently heard him snore. But as for me
I lay wakeful, busied with my thoughts and staring up at the radiant
heaven. "No!" said I to myself at last, speaking my thought aloud,
"No, I shall never be a poet!"
CHAPTER IV
IN WHICH I MEET A DOWN-AT-HEELS GENTLEMAN
I awoke uncomfortably warm, to find the high-risen sun pouring his
dazzling beams full upon me while, hard by, the Tinker's fire yet
smouldered; up I started to rub my eyes and stare about me upon the
unfamiliar scene. Birds piped and chirped merrily amid the leaves
above and around, a rabbit sat to watch me inquisitively, but
otherwise I was alone, for the Tinker had vanished and his tent with
him.
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