"I am thinking that there should be a bird here," he said. "Will Miss Fiona give me leave to try my own dog?"

Fiona nodded and called the setters to heel; the shepherd waved his hand, and the black collie came racing to him. Some collies will work a ground like a spaniel, and some will even do a little pointing, but the black collie troubled himself neither with one nor the other. When the shepherd spoke to him, he just cantered straight forward to a small patch of heather on the sunless side of a rock, where the frost still lingered, and there sat down quite unconcerned, as though the matter in hand were altogether beneath the scope of his talents.

"I think he has a bird," said the shepherd.

"I tried that place," said Apollo. "There's nothing there."

But the shepherd had gone up to his dog and was peering carefully into the heather. Then he beckoned Fiona.

"Does Miss Fiona see the bird?" he asked, pointing.

Fiona looked long before she saw. The woodc.o.c.k had squeezed himself right into the roots of a frost-covered clump of heather, and even when the heather was parted nothing showed but his little orange tail, with its white and black points.

"Shall I catch him for Miss Fiona?" asked the shepherd; and Fiona said, "Oh yes, please, if you will."

The shepherd knelt down and brought his two great hands slowly to either side of the tuft of heather; then he closed them with a snap, and drew out the largest woodc.o.c.k Fiona had ever seen. It struggled and thrashed at his wrists with its powerful wings.

"Will Miss Fiona take the bird now?" he said. "Just behind the wings, with her thumbs on its back."

So Fiona took her bird, and as she did so its back-seeing eye caught the glint of her copper bangle. It stopped thrashing with its wings and lay quite still in her hands.

"Oh, I say," he said, "why didn't you say before, instead of employing these people and frightening an honest bird out of his senses?"

"My dogs couldn't find you," said Fiona. "And I think it was so good of the shepherd to find you for me."

"Shepherd!" said the woodc.o.c.k. "That wasn't a shepherd. And it wasn't a collie either."

Fiona suddenly recollected that she had not yet thanked the shepherd, and turned to do so. But the shepherd and collie were gone. They must have walked very quickly to have turned the corner of the hill already.

"Where did he go?" she asked Artemis. Artemis shivered.

"To his own place, I hope," said Artemis severely. "Well brought up dogs should not be asked to a.s.sociate with things like that."

"But it was only the new shepherd," said Fiona.

"There's the new shepherd," said Artemis, nodding toward a distant slope, where a figure with a brown collie could be seen gathering sheep.

"What were they, then?" asked Fiona.

"Two of the Little People, of course," said Apollo. "Oh dear, oh dear, I'm afraid you'll have trouble."

"One generally dies," said Artemis, with cheerful consolation.

"But they were very nice to me indeed," said Fiona.

"Of course they were," said the woodc.o.c.k. "You're privileged, you know. _We_ all know it. And don't you mind the dogs, my dear. They are good creatures, but they and their forbears have lived so long with humans that they have forgotten most of the things we know. They are nearly as blind as humans now, saving your presence, my dear. And now what is it you want with me?"

"I want to find the King of the Woodc.o.c.k," said Fiona.

"Bless your heart," said the bird, "and who do you suppose We are? You never saw a woodc.o.c.k Our size before, did you?" And indeed Fiona never had; for he was as big as a young grouse.

"Eighteen and a half ounces, if I'm a pennyweight," said the woodc.o.c.k.

"I am the heaviest king that we have ever had. Will you please put me down if you want to talk to me? It is hardly consonant with my royal dignity to be held. I shan't fly away; _n.o.blesse oblige_, you know."

So Fiona put him down, and he arranged himself like a bunch of feathers on the ground, his head well back between his shoulders and his beady black eyes looking all round him at once.

"Why didn't Apollo find you?" asked Fiona.

"No scent," said the woodc.o.c.k, proudly. "I am not like a common bird.

No dog can find a king woodc.o.c.k; and no dog ever has. We can be beaten out of a wood, of course; my great-great-grandfather was shot like that when the family lived in Norfolk, many years ago. So we came up here to the open heather, and have been quite safe ever since. And now what do you want, my dear?"

"I was told you could let me into Fairyland," said Fiona.

"I can let you in by the back door," the bird said. "But are you really going to Fairyland? You'll need some courage, you know, if you are going the back way."

"Is there another way?" asked Fiona.

"There's the front door, of course," said the bird. "But no one can go that way without an invitation. Have you an invitation?"

"No," said Fiona.

"A pity," said the woodc.o.c.k. "There is no danger that way. But without an invitation you could not even find the door. As it is, you'll have to go in by the back way and take your risks."

"I have to go, whatever they are," said Fiona.

"_n.o.blesse oblige_," said the woodc.o.c.k. "Quite so, quite so. Have you been told about the wish?"

"Yes," said Fiona. "I know about that."

"The other thing," continued the bird, "is that you must stick to the main path. Remember that. You must not turn out of it for any reason of any kind. You'll see lots of side paths, and you'll see other things too; but if you once leave the main path by so much as one step you'll never get home again. There are no short cuts to Fairyland."

"Thank you so much," said Fiona. "But how shall I know the main path?"

With his long bill the woodc.o.c.k tweaked the point feather out of one of his wings and gave it to her.

"This will take you through," he said. "It will point the right way for you; that's why it is called the point feather. Just follow it. If you are frightened and want to leave your search and come home, tap on the ground with it and you will be back in Glenollisdal. But somehow I don't think you will. And whatever you do, don't lose it. When you reach the fairy grove, show it to the guardian, and he will let you in; and mind you don't go in unless he shows you its fellow. Oh, I'm all right, thank you; I'll have grown others long before they are needed. There is no great rush to Fairyland on the part of people who haven't _got_ to go, my dear."

"It all sounds so much more difficult than I thought," said poor Fiona.

"Nothing worth while is ever easy," said the woodc.o.c.k. "And now I'll show you where to start. By the bye, you can't take the dogs with you."

"This dog wouldn't go," said Artemis, shivering. "That black collie's there somewhere."

"Don't bother about us," said Apollo. "We'll be home long before the keeper is out of bed."

So Fiona took a warm farewell of the two dogs, who lamented her sad fate and wished her luck all in one breath, and then set off homeward with their long swinging gallop.

"And now, if you want to be in time for the great gathering, which you humans call Hallow E'en, you'll have to hurry," said the woodc.o.c.k.