That part of the picture was simple, if interesting, but did the huntsman
see, what Nicholas saw, that four galloping wolves were coming in his
direction through the wood? There might be more than four of them hidden
behind the trees, and in any case would the man and his dogs be able to
cope with the four wolves if they made an attack? The man had only two
arrows left in his quiver, and he might miss with one or both of them;
all one knew about his skill in shooting was that he could hit a large
stag at a ridiculously short range. Nicholas sat for many golden minutes
revolving the possibilities of the scene; he was inclined to think that
there were more than four wolves and that the man and his dogs were in a
tight corner.
But there were other objects of delight and interest claiming his instant
attention: there were quaint twisted candlesticks in the shape of snakes,
and a teapot fashioned like a china duck, out of whose open beak the tea
was supposed to come. How dull and shapeless the nursery teapot seemed
in comparison! And there was a carved sandal-wood box packed tight with
aromatic cotton-wool, and between the layers of cotton-wool were little
brass figures, hump-necked bulls, and peacocks and goblins, delightful to
see and to handle. Less promising in appearance was a large square book
with plain black covers; Nicholas peeped into it, and, behold, it was
full of coloured pictures of birds. And such birds! In the garden, and
in the lanes when he went for a walk, Nicholas came across a few birds,
of which the largest were an occasional magpie or wood-pigeon; here were
herons and bustards, kites, toucans, tiger-bitterns, brush turkeys,
ibises, golden pheasants, a whole portrait gallery of undreamed-of
creatures.
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