Now, the field just before you come to Farmer Thornycroft’s sheep-pen was sown with spring wheat, and they had put up a scarecrow there to frighten the birds away. The scarecrow was very much down in the world—his coat had no buttons and his hat had no brim, and his trousers had only a leg and a half—his well-to-do relations in the tailors’ windows would not have cared to meet him in the street at all. But even the ragged and unfortunate have their feelings, and the scarecrow was truly sorry to see Bob scouring across the field in such a temper; so just as Bob passed him, he flapped out at him with one sleeve, and the boy turned sharply round to see who it was.
“Only a scarecrow,” said he, “blown about by the wind,” and went on his way. But as he went, strange to say, he heard, or thought he heard, a voice call after him, “Better not, Bob! Better wait a bit!”
So Bob went home again and never let the sheep astray after all, but he thought it very hard that he might not punish either the schoolmaster, or the butler, or the farmer.
Father Pan’s Revenge
Now the folk that hide behind the shadows thought well of Bob for his self-restraint, and they determined that they would work for him and make all straight again; so when Bob went down to the river side next day, and took out his knife to cut some reeds for “whistle-pipes,” Father Pan breathed upon the reeds and enchanted them.
“What a breeze!” exclaimed Bob; but he knew nothing at all of what had in reality happened.
Bob finished his pan-pipes, and trudged along and whistled on them to his heart’s content. When he got to the village he was surprised to see a little girl begin to dance to his tune, and then another little girl, and then another. Bob was so astonished that he left off playing and stood looking at them, open-mouthed, with wonder; but so soon as ever he left off playing, the little girls ceased to dance; and as soon as they had recovered their breath they began to beg him not to play again, for the whistle-pipes, they were sure, must be bewitched.
“Ho! ho!” cried Bob, “here’s a pretty game; I’ll just give the schoolmaster a turn. Come, that will not do him any harm, at any rate!”
Strange to say, at that very moment the schoolmaster came along the street.
“Toot! toot! toot! tweedle, tweedle, toot!” went the pan-pipes, and away went the schoolmaster’s legs, cutting such capers as the world never looked upon before. Gayly trudged Bob along the street, and gayly danced the schoolmaster. The people looked out of their windows and laughed, and the poor schoolmaster begged Bob to leave off playing.