"Come, come, ye gentle sheep,
Keep out of waters deep;
Pasture on meadows green
Where grass grows sweet and clean."

How the trumpet resounded as if some one were weeping in the woods!
Even the echo seemed to answer in the same way.

The boys liked the beautiful tune. They knew the words of this song,
but Bacha bowed down his proud head as though some great burden were
pressing him down.

After they had finished their simple supper, they sat again as usual
in front of the hut, Bacha on a stump and the boys at his feet. They
were looking one at the other, wondering if they dare ask for some
story. He knew so many of them, and when he was in good humor he knew
very well how to tell good stories.

"I beg, Bacha, will you not tell us something?" Ondrejko finally
asked, and looked at the same time in such a way at Bacha that he
would have to be a very hard man to refuse.

Disturbed from his meditation, Bacha looked for a while into the
beautiful inquiring eyes, then with a deep breath he began:

"Many years ago I was a boy like you two. I'm telling you this that
you may know what you should never become, if the Lord God is not to
be very angry at you. I will tell you today something about myself
which I have not yet told anybody on earth," began Filina. He stopped