The first thing that Gigi saw, after the hut itself, was an old man in
a coarse gray gown, sitting on a stump, reading a book. His head was
bare, and he had a long white beard. His feet were bare, too, and he
wore leather sandals. A rope was tied about his waist. Gigi had
sometimes seen men so dressed plodding along the highroad or begging
from the townsfolk. If he thought about them at all, he believed them
to be some rival sort of performers, like the Tumblers themselves. It
seemed very queer to see one of the Gray Men here in the lonely
forest,--and with such strange companions! Gigi stared and stared
again, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure that they saw aright.

On the old man's knees was curled, asleep, a comfortable white cat.
Three little kittens played with the knotted ends of his girdle,
swarming up and down the gray gown of the reader. On his shoulder
perched a squirrel, busily eating a nut which he held in his little
paws. Close by, a brown and white deer grazed about the door of the
little hut. A great black raven hopped gravely about the old man's
feet, now and then picking up a bug. Lying peacefully asleep in front
of the hut door, like a yellow mat of fur, a fox was stretched. In and
out among the rose-bushes of a tiny garden which was planted beneath
the window of the hut, hopped several brown hares, seeming much at
home. The old man's head nodded forward on his book. He could sleep
soundly, it seemed, with all these little live things swarming about
him. Even as his gray locks swept the page, a thrush fluttered down
and lighted gently on the bald crown, beginning to sing so sweetly that
Gigi held his breath.

All this the boy saw in that first glimpse before he and the dog parted
the bushes and came out into the clearing. In that instant everything
changed. The dog gave a sharp bark of pleasure. The old man let the
book fall from his hand, and sat staring. The animals leaped from
their slumbers and scuttled away in every direction, some into the hut,
some into the neighboring bushes, some melting as if by magic into the
forest. The squirrel and the thrush took shelter in the treetops.
Only the raven, with ruffled feathers, remained at the old man's side,
turning a fierce little eye upon the newcomer.

By this time Gigi had thrown himself from the dog's back, and stood
feebly leaning against a tree. Released from his burden, the dog
bounded forward, and was soon leaping upon