"Then why did he run away?" said Guido; "I
should not have hurt him." But the swallow had gone up high into the sky
again, and did not hear him. All the time Guido was descending the slope,
for little feet always go down the hill as water does, and when he looked
back he found that he had left the fir-trees so far behind he was in the
middle of the field. If any one had looked they could hardly have seen
him, and if he had taken his cap off they could not have done so because
the yellow curls would be so much the same colour as the yellow corn. He
stooped to see how nicely he could hide himself, then he knelt, and in a
minute sat down, so that the wheat rose up high above him.
Another humble-bee went over along the tips of the wheat--burr-rr--as he
passed; then a scarlet fly, and next a bright yellow wasp who was telling
a friend flying behind him that he knew where there was such a capital
piece of wood to bite up into tiny pieces and make into paper for the
nest in the thatch, but his friend wanted to go to the house because
there was a pear quite ripe there on the wall. Next came a moth, and
after the moth a golden fly, and three gnats, and a mouse ran along the
dry ground with a curious sniffling rustle close to Guido.
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