the sky he looked like a little black speck with a couple of thin wavy
lines for wings.

There was music, too, for a woodthrush sang, oh ever so sweet, and the
oriole whistled as clear as a flute, while a locust rattled away like
the man who plays the drum and all the noisy things in the
theatre-orchestra. But, busiest of all, at his feet an army of black
ants hurried around a little hole in the ground, seeming quite as big
as the people and horses in the valley below.

"It's just like a little city here, isn't it, Toyman?" Marmaduke said,
"all the katydids, and bugs, and snakes, and things, workin' an'
workin' away."

"Yes," said the Toyman, as they watched Robber Hawk swing round and
round in the sky, "how any one can feel lonely in the country I can't
see. I can understand it in the city, where you can't speak to a soul
without his putting his hand on his watch, but here there's always a
lot of folks with beaks and claws and tails, and all kinds o' tongues
an' dialecks, that you don't need any introduction to, to say
'howdy!'"

But Marmaduke remembered that morning and how the Toyman had seemed in
trouble. He had certainly looked lonely when Marmaduke and Wienerwurst
had found him sitting up there on the hill, and the little boy
couldn't help asking,--"Don't you ever feel lonely? You haven't any
wife, and Mother says she pities a man without chicken or
child--'tleast she said something like that--and how it wasn't good
for a man to live alone--an' _you_ do--out in your bunkhouse."