Almost without knowing it, the chair was speaking aloud in his own language and, as he finished, he heard a voice say:
"Why don't you come in here?"
"In where?" asked Racky, for all he could see through the trees was a big blob of darkness, and the voice seemed to come from this.
"Come into this snug, dry cave," was the answer. "Then you will be out of the rain."
"Whose cave is it?" asked Racky, remembering to have heard Gassy tell of caves, or caverns, that the stove had seen in the sides of hills when he galloped away that time.
"It is the cave of all the Woodland Folk," was the answer. "Any one, who has no other home, is welcome to live in this cave as long as he likes."
"Well, I am traveling around, looking for adventures," said Racky. "I had a home, but I left it, so I shall be glad to come in out of the rain and stay all night. But who are you, if I may ask?"
"You may ask and I shall tell you," was the polite answer. "I am a wild pig and after my supper of acorns, last night, I crept into this cave to sleep. Come in, you are welcome!"
So Racky entered the dark cave in the side of the hill, beneath the trees from which dripped the cold rain drops. At first the chair could see nothing, but, after a while, he noticed a little glow, like a faint fire, in one corner of the cave. And, by the glow of this pale fire, the chair could see the wild pig curled up on a bed of dried leaves.
"That fire looks like the one which burns in Gassy, when Lizzie is doing the washing," said Racky, while he gave his cushions a shake to get the rain out of them. As he did so, something fell to the floor of the cave with a tinkle.