CHAPTER IX
THE HUT IN THE FOREST
NOW that he was safe and away from the Lions, David looked about for the Blue Bird. He looked and looked in vain.
“Must I lose you again?” he said to himself. “Well, I will not forget you again, my Blue Bird! I will keep you in my memory. And sometime, somewhere, I know that I shall hear your song again. But I cannot delay longer now: I must push on, for I am bound to find and capture the Pale-Coloured Wingèd Horse.”
He had gone some distance through the forest when he met an old, old wood-cutter carrying a bundle of wood upon his back.
“What do you here, my son?” questioned the old man the minute he caught sight of David. “What are you seeking, pray?”
“Why think that I am seeking anything, Father?” asked David, smiling.
“You must be,” replied the old man, “or else you could not be here. This is the Land of the Seeker, you know, and all who are here have some definite purpose. What is yours? I should like to know, for you are an earnest, interesting looking lad, and your quest must be well worth while.”
“I am seeking the Pale-Coloured Wingèd Horse,” said David.
“Indeed!” answered the old man. There was a note of real surprise in his voice. “Indeed! And do you know where to find it?”
“No,” David answered earnestly, “but I mean to find it. I am going to seek and inquire and question till I get some clew to the creature’s whereabouts; for it is that, and that alone, which I seek. Can you tell me something about the wonderful Horse? Perhaps you have seen it, or perhaps you can tell me where it is apt to roam?”