he began to see the light coming through the hole, and in another half hour it was large enough for him to creep through.  When he had got out, he slipped down to the ground, where the dogs were lying.  They seemed very glad to see him, and began pressing round to lick his face; but he pushed them off, and ran away over the plain as fast as he could.  The stars were shining, but it was very dark and silent; only in moist places, where the grass grew tall, he heard the crickets strumming sadly on their little harps.

At length, tired with running, he coiled himself in a large tussock of dry grass and went to sleep, just as if he had been accustomed to sleep out of doors all his life.

CHAPTER V

THE PEOPLE OF THE MIRAGE

In that remote land where Martin was born, with its bright warm climate and rich soil, no person need go very long hungry—­not even a small boy alone and lost on the great grassy plain.  For there is a little useful plant in that place, with small leaves like clover leaves and a pretty yellow flower, which bears a wholesome sweet root, about as big as a pigeon’s egg and of a pearly white colour.  It is so well known to the settlers’ children in that desert country that they are always wandering off to the plain to look for it, just as the children in a town are always running off with their halfpence to the sweet-stuff shop.  This pretty white root is watery, so that it satisfies both hunger and thirst at the same time.  Now when Martin woke next morning, he found a great many of the little three-leaved plants growing close to the spot where he had slept, and they supplied him with a nice sweet breakfast.  After he had eaten enough and had amused himself by rolling over and over several times on the grass, he started once more on his travels, going towards the sunrise as fast as he could run.  He could run well for a small boy, but he got tired at last and sat down to rest.  Then he jumped up and went on again at a trot:  this pace he kept up very steadily, only pausing from time to time to watch a flock of small white birds that followed him all the morning out of curiosity.  At length he began to feel so hot and tired that he could only walk.  Still he kept on; he could see no flowers nor anything pretty in that place—­why should he stay in it?  He would go on, and on, and on, in spite of the heat, until he came to something.  But it grew hotter as the day advanced, and the ground about him more dry and barren and desolate, until at last he came to ground where there was scarcely a blade of grass:  it was a great, barren, level plain, covered with a slight crust of salt crystals that glittered in the sun so brightly that it dazzled and pained his eyesight.  Here were no sweet watery roots for refreshment, and no berries; nor could Martin find a bush to give him a little shade and protection from the burning noonday sun.  He saw one large dark object in the distance, and mistaking it for a bush covered with thick foliage he ran towards it; but suddenly it started up, when he was near, and waving its great grey and white wings like sails, fled across the plain.  It was an ostrich!