Now we stay here even when it’s very cold. I think it’s a pity.”

Soon all began eagerly to build their nests. The lark, always first to awaken, was also first to return home and fashion her simple nest on the ground. The others, singing and twittering happily, built new homes or freshened up those they had left in the fall. Artfully the swallows attached their nests to the eaves of Martin’s house, so close under that they could barely slip into them.

Manni the donkey spoke to the little birds. “Welcome, gallant fliers!”

“Greetings! Greetings!” the swallows chirped and swished hastily away to fetch new building material.

“Why do you make your doors so tight?” the donkey wanted to know when they came back.

“No time to talk now!” the swallows shouted and were off again.

“Don’t disturb them in their work,” Lisa the cow reproved him gently.

Devil the stallion muttered, “Now don’t you mix into this. Who are you to give orders to the Gray One?”

“Are you dictating to me?” Lisa asked him calmly. “You know I’m not afraid of you. After all, I can give Gray a piece of advice without asking your permission.”

“What kind of advice?” Manni inquired.

“I mean,” said Lisa, “it’s better to wait till the little flycatchers are on the way to hatching. Then the parents sit quietly and are glad to talk to you.”

“You’re right,” Manni admitted good-naturedly. “That’s sensible.”

Placidly the stallion said, “Yes, this time she’s right. But it’s an exception. Usually the milk-giver is really stupid, as dumb as the oats we eat. And I’m right about that.”

The donkey turned to go.

“You needn’t run away,” neighed the stallion.

“I’m not running away,” answered Manni. “I just want to take a look at the forest.”

“The forest! You’re crazy!” Devil exclaimed.

“But I’ve never been in the forest,” the donkey brayed stubbornly. “I want to see what it’s like.”

“But suppose He needs you!” Witch the mare called after him.

Manni hesitated only a second. For a long time he had wanted to see the forest. Now he was determined to go. “Let Him—” What he was going to say trailed off into nothing as he pushed through the stable door.

“Gray has declared his independence,” muttered the stallion.

“Only for this once,” Witch said as if to apologize for Manni.

Lisa kept wagging her head in amazement. “None of us barn creatures belongs in the forest! How can he dare do such a thing?”

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Chapter 3

MANNI AVOIDED HIS USUAL path to the Lodge. Softly he stole around the stable to where the ground rose and only the picket fence separated the garden from the hill. He had often stood there to glance longingly upward, only to do a timid about-face and stay home after all.

But today he was filled with the adventurous spirit of spring, its freshness and courage, though he didn’t know it. He fancied that the courage overpowering his conscience came entirely from within himself.

As he stood there laying bold plans, a brilliant butterfly tumbled in the air before his eyes. Admiringly Manni followed him as he danced up and down the length of the fence. When at last the fragment of color flew off into the forest, Manni pressed through the little gate that was always unfastened.

The way went steeply uphill. Vigorously Manni climbed higher and higher. The brush pressed around him, the young shoots on the branches tempted his taste. High above his head the treetops interlaced to form a leafy green ceiling. He did not feel tired until he reached a clearing at the top. There he rested and drew deep breaths.

Suddenly he heard a thin peevish voice asking over and over: “Who are you? Tell us, who are you?”

Manni looked around.