The road was lonely as it wound along. There
was nothing to be seen but waves of grey hills on
every side, so the stranger rode on, scarcely lifting
his eyes as he went. Then suddenly he came upon
a flock of sheep nibbling the scanty sunburnt grass,
and a little brown-faced shepherd-boy gave him a
cheerful `Good-day, master.'

There was something so bright and merry in the
boy's smile that the great man stopped and began to
talk to him. Then his eye fell upon the smooth flat
rock over which the boy had been bending, and he
started with surprise.

`Who did that?' he asked quickly, and he pointed
to the outline of a sheep scratched upon the stone.

`It is the picture of one of my sheep there,'
answered the boy, hanging his head with a shame-
faced look. `I drew it with this,' and he held out
towards the stranger the sharp stone he had been
using.

`Who taught you to do this?' asked the master
as he looked more carefully at the lines drawn on
the rock.

The boy opened his eyes wide with astonishment
`Nobody taught me, master,' he said. `I only try
to draw the things that my eyes see.'