saw that the field was full of cowslips--yellow with
cowslips. "I will pick every one," said he, "and carry them all back to
my mother."

"You cannot do that," said the swallow, laughing, "you will not try long
enough."

"I _hate_ you!" cried Bevis in a passion, and flung his knife, which was
in his hand, at the bird. The swallow rose up, and the knife whizzed by
and struck the ground.

"I told you you were not safe," said the swallow over his head; "and I
am sure you won't pick half the cowslips."

Bevis picked up his knife and put it in his pocket; then he began to
gather the cowslips, and kept on for a quarter of an hour as fast as
ever he could, till both hands were full. There was a rustle in the
hedge, and looking up he saw Pan come out, all brown with sand sticking
to his coat. He shook himself, and sent the sand flying from him in a
cloud, just like he did with the water when he came up out of the pond.
Then he looked at Bevis, wagged his tail, cried "Yowp!" and ran back
into the hedge again.

Bevis rushed to the spot, and saw that there was a large rabbits' hole.
Into this hole Pan had worked his way so far that there was nothing of
him visible but his hind legs and tail. Bevis could hear him panting in
the hole, he was working so hard to get at the rabbit, and tearing with
his teeth at the roots to make the hole bigger. Bevis clapped his hands,
dropping his cowslips, and called "Loo! Loo!" urging the dog on. The
sand came flying out behind Pan, and he worked harder and harder, as if
he would tear the mound to pieces.

Bevis sat down on the grass under the shadow of the oak, by a maple
bush, and taking a cowslip, began to count the spots inside it. It was
always five in all the cowslips--five brown little spots--that he was
sure of, because he knew he had five fingers on each hand. He lay down
at full length on his back, and looked up at the sky through the boughs
of the oak. It was very, very blue, and very near down. With a long
ladder he knew he could have got up there easily, and it looked so
sweet. "Sky," said Bevis, "I love you like I love my mother." He pouted
his lips, and kissed at it. Then turning a little on one side to watch
Pan, in an instant he fell firm asleep.

Pan put his head out of the hole to breathe two or three times, and
looked aside at Bevis, and seeing that he was still, went back to work
again. Two butterflies came fluttering along together. The swallow
returned, and flew low