Page:Bambi A Life in the Woods (1928).pdf/212

and the storm is howling. But inside there’s not a breath of wind and it’s as warm as in summertime,” he said.

“Akh!” screamed the jay.

“The rain may be pouring outside so that everything is flooded. But not a drop of it gets inside and you keep dry.”

The pheasants craned their necks and twisted their heads.

“Everything outside may be snowed under, but inside I was warm,” said Gobo; “I was even hot. They gave me hay to eat and chestnuts, potatoes and turnips, whatever I wanted.”

“Hay?” they all cried at once, amazed, incredulous and excited.

“Sweet, new-mown hay,” Gobo repeated calmly, and gazed triumphantly around.

The squirrel’s voice cut in, “A cousin of mine. . . .”

“Keep quiet,” cried the others.

“Where does He get hay and all the rest of the things in winter,” asked Faline eagerly.

“He grows them,” Gobo answered, “He grows what He wants and keeps what He wants.”

Faline went on questioning him: “Weren’t you