"That's black birch," said he; " 'tis kind o' handsome; stop, I'll find you some oak blossoms directly. There's some Solomon's seal do you want some of that?"
Ellen sprang to it with exclamations of joy, and, before she could rise from her stooping posture, discovered some cowslips to be scrambled for. Wild columbine, the delicate corydalis, and more uvularias, which she called yellow bells, were added to her handful, till it grew a very elegant bunch indeed. Mr. Van Brunt looked complacently on, much as Ellen would at a kitten running round after its tail.
"Now, I won't keep you any longer, Mr. Van Brunt," said she, when her hands were as full as they could hold; "I have kept you a great while; you are very good to wait for me."
They took up their line of march again, and after crossing the last piece of rocky woodland, came to an open hill-side, sloping gently up, at the foot of which were several large flat stones.
"But where are the sheep, Mr. Van Brunt?" said Ellen.
"I guess they ain't fur," said he. "You keep quiet, 'cause they don't know you; and they are mighty scary. Just stand still there by the fence. Ca-nan! ca-nan! ca-nan, nan, nan, nan, nan, nan, nan!"
This was the sheep-call, and raising his voice, Mr. Van Brunt made it sound abroad far over the hills. Again and again it sounded; and then Ellen saw the white nose of a sheep, at the edge of the woods, on the top of the hill. On the call's sounding again, the sheep set forward, and in a long train they came running along a narrow footpath, down towards where Mr. Van Brunt was standing with his pan. The soft tramp of a multitude of light hoofs in another direction, turned Ellen's eyes that way, and there were two more single files of sheep running down the hill from different points in the woodland. The pretty things came scampering along, seeming in a great hurry, till they got very near; then the whole multitude came to a sudden halt, and looked very wistfully and doubtfully indeed at Mr. Van Brunt, and the strange little figure standing so still by the fence. They seemed in great doubt, every sheep of them, whether Mr. Van Brunt were not a traitor, who had put on a friend's voice, and lured them down there with some dark evil intent, which he was going to carry out by means of that same dangerous-looking stranger by the fence. Ellen almost expected to see them turn about and go as fast as they had come. But Mr. Van Brunt, gently repeating his call, went quietly up to the nearest stone, and began to scatter the salt upon it, full in their view. Doubt was at an end; he had hung out the white flag; they flocked down to the stones, no longer at all in fear of double-dealing, and crowded to get at the salt; the rocks where it was strewn were covered with more sheep than Ellen would have thought it possible could stand upon them. They were like pieces of floating ice, heaped up with snow, or queen-cakes with an immoderately thick frosting. It was one scene of pushing and crowding those which had not had their share of the feast forcing themselves up to get at it, and shoving others off in consequence. Ellen was wonderfully pleased. It was a new and pretty sight, the busy hustling crowd of gentle creatures, with the soft noise of their tread upon grass and stones, and the eager devouring of the salt. She was fixed with pleasure, looking and listening, and did not move till the entertainment was over, and the body of the flock were carelessly scattering here and there, while a few that had perhaps been disappointed of their part, still lingered upon the stones, in the vain hope of yet licking a little saltness from them.
"Well," said Ellen, "I never knew what salt was worth before.
How they do love it! Is it good for them, Mr. Van Brunt?"
"Good for them!" said he "to be sure it is good for them. There ain't a critter that walks, as I know, that it ain't good for 'cept chickens, and, it's very queer, it kills them."
They turned to go homeward. Ellen had taken the empty pan to lay her flowers in, thinking it would be better for them than the heat of her hand; and, greatly pleased with what she had come to see, and enjoying her walk as much as it was possible, she was going home very happy, yet she could not help missing Mr. Van Brunt's old sociableness. He was uncommonly silent, even for him, considering that he and Ellen were alone together; and she wondered what had possessed him with a desire to cut down all the young saplings he came to that were large enough for walking-sticks. He did not want to make any use of them that was certain, for as fast as he cut and trimmed out one he threw it away and cut another. Ellen was glad when they got out into the open fields where there were none to be found.