Chapter Name: Chapter 1 1 Before Breakfast
Chapter 1 1 Before Breakfast
"Where are you going, daddy, with that ax?" Setting the table Fern asked her mother over breakfast.
"Go up to the pigsty," answered Mrs. Arable, "the piglets were laid last night."
"I don't understand why he should go there with an axe. "Fern, who is only eight years old, said again.
"Well," her mother said, "one of the piglets was a lost pig. It was too small and weak to be of any use. So your father made up his mind not to have it."
"Don't want it?" Fern screamed, "You mean to kill it? Just because it's smaller than the other pigs?"
Mrs. Arable put the cream jug down on the table. "Stop yelling, Fern!" she said. "Your dad is right. That little piggy won't survive anyway." Fern pushed a chair out of the way and ran out. The grass is wet and the soil smells of spring. By the time he caught up with his father, Fern's canvas shoes were wet.
"Please don't kill it!" she said through tears. "It's not fair."
Mr. Arable stopped.
"Fern," he said gently, "you have to learn to control yourself."
"Control yourself?" Fern shouted, "This is a matter of life and death, you What else are you saying about controlling yourself?" Tears rolled down her face, and she grabbed the ax and planned to snatch it from her father's hand.
"Fern," said Mr. Arable, "I know more about raising piglets than you do. The pigs are in big trouble. Now get out of the way!"
"But this It's not fair," Fern shouted. "The piglet is born small, and it can't do anything about it, right? If I were born very small, would you kill me too?"
Mr. Arable smiled. "Of course not," he said, looking down at his daughter lovingly, "But these are two different things. It's one thing for a girl to be young, but it's another thing for her to be a pig."
"I see. It makes no difference," Fern replied, still holding on to the axe. "I've heard so many unfair things, and this is the most unfair."
Alas. A curious expression passed over Mr. Bull's face. He felt like he was going to cry too.
"Okay, okay," he said, "You go back first. When I go home, I will bring this pig back and let you feed it with a bottle, like a baby. This You will soon see how troublesome it is to deal with a little pig."
Half an hour later, Mr. Arable came home with a cardboard box under his arm. Fern was changing into her canvas shoes upstairs. Breakfast was laid out on the kitchen table, and the room smelled of coffee, bacon, wet plaster, and wood smoke from the stove.
"Put it on her chair," said Mrs. Arable. Mr. Arable placed the carton on Fern's seat. Then he went to the sink and washed his hands, drying them with a towel on the roller rack.
Fern slowly went downstairs step by step. Her eyes were red from crying. As she approached her chair, the carton shook and there was a scratching sound inside. Fern looked at her dad. Then she lifted the lid of the carton. Looking up at her from inside was the newly born piglet. It's a little white pig. The morning light shines through its ears, turning them pink.
"It's yours," said Mr. Arable. "You saved it from death. God forgive me for doing such a stupid thing."
Fern stared. The little pig looked at it and couldn't keep his eyes away from it. "Oh," she said very softly, "oh, look at it, it's great."
She carefully closed the carton. She kissed her father first, then her mother. Then she opened the lid of the box, took the piggy out, and put it on her face. Just then her brother Avery walked into the room. Avery is ten years old.
He was heavily armed - an air rifle in one hand and a wooden dagger in the other.
"What's that?" he asked. "What did Fern get?"
"She had a breakfast guest," said Mrs. Arable. "Go wash your hands and face, Avery!"
"Let me see it," Avery said, putting down the gun. "Can such a pitiful little thing be called a pig? It really sounds like a pig. The model is no bigger than a white mouse."
"Go wash up and have breakfast, Avery!" said his mother, "The school bus will be here in half an hour."
"Can I have a pig too, Dad?" Avery asked.
"No, I only give pigs to people who get up early," said Mr. Arable. "Fern gets up at dawn to fight against injustice and wipe out all injustice in the world. As a result, she got it now. A little pig. Yes, it is very small, but it is still a pig. This just proves the benefits of getting up early. ”
But Fern couldn't eat the baby piggy without drinking milk first. Mrs. Arable found a baby bottle and a pacifier. She poured hot milk into the bottle, put on the pacifier, handed it to Fern and said, "Give it its breakfast!" Immediately afterwards, Fern sat on the floor in the corner of the kitchen and put her The little baby is placed between the knees and the piglet is asked to suck the bottle. Although the piglet is small, it has a good appetite and learns quickly.
The school bus honked on the road.
"Run!" Mrs. Arable picked up the piglet in Fern's arms, stuffed a donut into her hand, and ordered. Avery grabbed his gun and grabbed another donut.
The two children ran to the road outside and got into the car. Fern ignored the classmates in the car. She just sat there and looked out the car window, thinking all the time, what a happy world it was, and how lucky she was to have a little pig all by herself. By the time the bus arrived at school, Fern had already named her baby pig, the most beautiful name she could think of.
"His name is Wilbur," she whispered to herself.
She was thinking about her little pig when the teacher asked: "Fern, what is the capital of Pennsylvania?"
"Wilbur," Fern Said as if dreaming. The classmates giggled. Fern blushed.
Chapter name: Chapter 1 2 Wilbur the Pig
Chapter 1 2 Wilbur the Pig
Fern loves Wilbur more than anything else . She caressed it, fed it, and put it to bed. Every morning, she would warm the milk, put a bib on it, and feed it with a bottle. Every afternoon, as soon as the school bus stopped in front of her house, she jumped off the bus and ran to the kitchen to get milk for it. Feed again at dinner time and again before bed. When Fern was at school, Mrs. Arable fed him at noon every day. Wilbur loved milk, and nothing made him happier than Fern feeding him hot milk. It raised its head and looked at her with loving eyes.
For the first few days of his life, Wilbur was placed in a box next to the kitchen stove. Later Mrs. Arable spoke, and it was moved to the shed and replaced with a larger box. When it was two weeks old, it was moved outdoors. It’s apple blossom time and the weather is getting warmer. Mr. Arable circled a small area under an apple tree to make a pigsty for Wilbur. He prepared a large wooden box for him, filled with wheat straw, and opened a door in the wooden box so that he could enter and exit at will. Out.
"Won't it get cold at night?" Fern asked.
"No," her father said, "Just watch and see what it will do."
Fern brought a bottle of milk and the pig under the apple tree Sit down in the bar. Wilbur ran up to her and she held the bottle for him to suck. After drinking the last drop of milk, it purred and walked sleepily into the wooden box. Fern lowered his head and looked into the door. Wilbur was using his nose to brush the wheatgrass.
In the blink of an eye, it dug a tunnel in the wheat straw. It went into the tunnel, was completely covered with wheat straw, and disappeared. Fern was fascinated. She felt relieved knowing that her little baby wouldn't get cold if she slept covered with wheat straw.
After breakfast every morning, Wilbur walked to the main road with Fern and waited with her for the school bus. She waved goodbye to it and it stood there until the bus turned the corner and was out of sight. When Fern was at school, Wilbur was kept in his pigpen. As soon as she got home in the afternoon, she let it out and it followed her around. When she enters the house, so does he. If she went upstairs, Wilbur waited at the foot of the stairs until she came down again. Encounter her pushing her dolls for a walk in a toy stroller, with Wilbur following behind. Sometimes when Wilbur was tired from walking, Fern would simply pick him up, put him on the stroller, and lie next to the doll. Wilbur liked this best. If it is too tired, it will close its eyes and sleep under the doll's blanket. It looks so beautiful when it closes its eyes because its eyelashes are so long. The doll would also close its eyes, and Fern would push the car slowly and gently so as not to wake her two babies.
One warm afternoon, Fern and Avery put on their bathing suits and went for a swim in the creek below. Wilbur followed him into the water. It felt the water was very cold - so cold that it couldn't stand it. Therefore, while the two friends swam, played, and splashed each other with water, Wilbur stayed in the mud by the river and enjoyed himself. The mud was warm, wet, sticky, and very comfortable.
It’s like this every day, happy during the day and quiet at night.
Wilbur is what farmers call a spring pig, which simply means that he was born in the spring. When it was five weeks old, Mr. Arable said it was old enough to sell. Fern couldn't help but burst into tears, but her father was determined about the matter. Wilbur's appetite increased and he began to eat leftovers in addition to drinking milk. Mr. Arable didn't want to keep it anymore. Wilbur's ten brothers and sisters have all been sold.
"It has to go, Fern," he said, "You've had the pleasure of raising a baby pig, and now that Wilbur is no longer a baby pig, he has to be sold. "
"Call the Zuckermans," Mrs. Arable advised Fern. "Your Uncle Homer will keep a pig sometimes if Wilbur sells it to him. Go home, you can take the road to see it as often as you like."
"How much should I ask him for?" Fern asked.
"Well," her father said, "it's a piggy. Tell your Uncle Homer you have a little piggy to sell for six dollars and see what he says. . ”
This matter was settled quickly. Fern called her Aunt Edith, who called Uncle Homer, who came back from the barn to answer Fern's call. He heard that it only cost six yuan, so he said he would buy the pig. The next day, Wilbur was moved from his home under the apple tree to the compost pile at the bottom of the Zuckermans' barn.
Chapter name: Chapter 1 3 Escape
Chapter 1 3 Escape
The barn is huge. It's very old. It smells of hay, of fertilizer. It smells like the sweat of tired horses and the wonderful smell of hardworking cows. The barn smells like peace and nothing bad will happen again. It smelled of grain, harness covers, axle oil, rubber boots and new ropes. If the cat came here to enjoy the fish head given to it in its mouth, the barn would still smell fishy. But the strongest smell was of hay, which was always piled in the attic above the building. There was always hay thrown down to feed the cows, horses, and sheep.
In winter, the barn is very warm, and the animals spend most of their time indoors; in summer, all the doors are open for ventilation, and it is very cool. There are horse stalls and cow stalls inside the barn, and there are sheep pens under the barn and a pig pen where Wilbur stays. The barn contained all the things you would find in a barn: ladders, mills, forks, wrenches, scythes, lawn mowers, snow shovels, ax handles, milk pails, buckets, empty sacks, rusty mouse traps. It is the kind of barn where swallows like to build their nests. It's the kind of barn a kid would love to play in.
The barn, with all its contents, belonged to Mr. Homer Zuckerman, Fern's uncle.
Wilbur's new home is on the ground floor of the barn, just below the cattle pen. Mr. Zuckerman knew that a manure pile was a good place to raise piglets. Pigs need warmth, and it's warm and cozy under a sunny barn.
Fern came to see Wilbur almost every day. She found an abandoned milking stool and placed it in the sheep pen next to Wilbur's pig pen. During the long afternoon, she sat there quietly, thinking, listening and looking at Wilbur. The sheep quickly got to know her and trusted her. The same goes for the geese that stay with the sheep. All the animals trusted her and she was so quiet and friendly. Mr. Zuckerman wouldn't let her take Wilbur outside or into the pigpen. But he told Fern that she could sit on the stool and watch Wilbur as long as she pleased. She was happy as long as she could stay with the little pig. Wilbur was happy just knowing that Fern was sitting outside his pen. Except it's no fun at all - no walking, no strollers, no swimming.
In June, Wilbur was almost two months old. One afternoon he walked into the small yard outside the barn. At this time, Fern, who comes to see it every day, has not yet arrived. Wilbur stood in the sunshine, feeling lonely and bored.
"Nothing can be done here," it thought. It slowly walked to its food trough and sniffed with its nose to see if there was anything it missed during lunch. It found a small piece of potato skin and ate it. It felt itchy on its back, so it leaned against the fence and rubbed its back against the fence. After enough dilly-dallying, it returned to the house, climbed onto the compost heap, and sat down. It doesn't want to sleep, it doesn't want to dig the ground, it's tired of standing, and it's tired of lying down. "I haven't lived more than two months, but I'm already tired of living," it said. It went outside to the yard again.
"Outside," it said, "there is nowhere to go but in. Back inside, there is no place to go but out."
"What you said That's wrong, my friend, my friend, my friend," said a voice.
Wilbur looked outside the fence and saw a mother goose standing there.
"You don't have to stay in that dirty pig pen," said the goose. "There's a loose fence. Push it up, push it up - Thumb up—thumb it up, do as I say, come out!”
“What?” said Wilbur, “please speak slower!”
"I'll do it - I'll do it - I'll do it again," said the goose. "I urge you to come out. It's great out there."
"Did you just say there was a loose board?"
"I said it, I said it, I said it." said the goose.
Wilbur walked to the fence and saw that the mother goose was right - there was a loose board. It lowered its head and closed its eyes. The plank was pushed open. In a blink of an eye, it had gotten out of the fence and was standing in the tall grass outside the pig pen. The goose giggled.
"How does it feel to be free?" it asked.
"I like it," said Wilbur. "I mean, I think I like it." Indeed, outside the fence, there was nothing to separate it from the vast world, and it felt strange. Yes, very special.
"Where do you think I'd better go?"
"Wherever you like," said the goose, "through the orchard and over the turf!" Go through the garden and dig out the radishes! Look for the corn! Jump around and wander through the woods! "
"I can see the wonder of it," replied Wilbur. It jumped up, jumped high, spun around, ran a few steps, stopped to look around, smelled the afternoon scents, and then set off through the orchard. It stopped under the shade of an apple tree and began to dig into the ground with its powerful nose. It feels very happy. Before anyone saw it, it had already covered a large area. It was Mrs. Zuckerman who saw it first. She saw it from the kitchen window and immediately shouted.
"Homer!" she cried, "Piggy's out! Levi! Piggy's out! Homer! Levi! Piggy's out. It's under the apple tree. ."
"Now the trouble begins," thought Wilbur, "now I am in trouble."
The goose heard the commotion and started shouting. "Run-run-run, run down the hill, into the woods-woods-woods!" she shouted to Wilbur. "They'll never-never-never catch you in the woods. ”
The little hound heard the commotion and ran out of the barn to join in the chase. Mr. Zuckerman heard the cry and came out of the machine shed where he was repairing tools. Levi, the hired man, heard the cry and came running from the asparagus field where he was pulling weeds. Everyone chased Wilbur, but Wilbur didn't know what to do. The forest seemed far away, and it had never been in the forest before, so it was unclear whether it liked it or not.
"Get behind it, Levy," said Mr. Zuckerman, "and drive it toward the grain wiper! Take it easy—don't push it and drag it! I'll get a bucket of slop. ."
The news of Wilbur's escape quickly spread among the group of animals. Whenever an animal escaped from Zuckerman's farm, the other animals were interested. The goose shouted to the cow approaching her that Wilbur was free, and soon all the cows knew. Next a cow told a sheep, and soon all the sheep knew it too. The lambs in turn learn from their mother. The horses in the stalls in the barn pricked up their ears when they heard the goose yelling, and they immediately knew what was going on. "Wilbur is gone," they said. All the animals moved about and raised their heads, happy to know that one of their friends was free and no longer locked up or tied up tightly.
Wilbur didn't know what to do or where to run. Everyone looked like they were chasing it. "If this is the so-called freedom," he said to himself, "I think I would rather be locked up in my own pig pen."
The little hound quietly approached Wilbur from the side. Levi, the hired man, quietly approached Wilbur from the other side. Mrs. Zuckerman stood ready to stop Wilbur if he ran toward the garden. Mr. Zuckerman came towards Wilbur carrying a bucket of something. "That's terrible," Wilbur said to himself. "Why hasn't Fern come yet?" He began to cry.
The goose acted as the conductor and began to give orders.
"Don't just stand there, Wilbur! Get away, get away, get away!" the goose cried, "get around me, run towards me, slip in and out." Out, in and out, in and out! Run to the woods! Turn around and run!" The little hound jumped on Wilbur's hind legs. Wilbur jumped and ran. dropped. Levi reached out to grab it. Mrs. Zuckerman screamed at Levi. The goose cheered for Wilbur. Wilbur slipped between Levi's legs. Levi didn't catch Wilbur, but caught the little hound. "Well done, well done, well done!" the mother goose cheered, "One more time, one more time, one more time!"
"Run down the hill!" The cows advised Wilbur.
"Run toward me!" shouted the gander.
"Run toward the mountains!" the sheep shouted.
"Turn around and run!" the mother goose quacked.
"Jump, jump!" cried the rooster.
"Watch out for Levi!" shouted the cows.
"Watch out for Zuckerman!" shouted the gander.
"Watch out for that dog!" the sheep shouted.
"Listen to me, listen to me, listen to me!" screamed the goose.
You yelled at me, and poor Wilbur was dazed and frightened by the noise. It does not want to be at the center of this chaos. It wanted to follow the instructions given to it by its friends, but it could not go up and down the mountain at the same time, it could not jump and spin around, and it cried so hard that it could hardly see what was happening before its eyes. Besides, Wilbur was just a little suckling pig - almost like a baby, actually.
It just longed for Fern to be here, to hold it in its arms and comfort it. It felt relieved when it looked up and saw Mr. Zuckerman standing very close to it, holding a bucket of hot slop. It lifts its nose and smells. It smelled delicious—warm milk, potato skins, wheat bran, Kelo popcorn, leftover puff pastry from the Zuckermans' breakfast.
"Come on, Piggy!" Mr. Zuckerman said, patting the bucket. "Come on, Piggy!"
Wilbur took a step forward towards the bucket.
"No, no, no!" said the goose, "it's the old bucket trick. Wilbur. Don't be fooled, don't be fooled, don't be fooled! He's luring you back to the cage—the cage— —Go to the cage. He's tempting you."
Wilbur doesn't care. The smell of food is so appetizing. It took another step toward the barrel.
"Piggy, piggy!" said Mr. Zuckerman in a good voice, and began to walk slowly toward the barn yard, looking around with an innocent look, as if he didn't care at all. I know there is a little white pig following behind.
"You will regret--regret--regret." cried the goose.
Wilbur didn't care. It continued towards the bucket of slops.
"You will lose your freedom," the goose quacked. "An hour of freedom is worth a bucket of slop."
Wilbur didn't care.
When Mr. Zuckerman reached the pig pen, he climbed over the pen and dumped his feet into the trough. Then he pulled off the loose board on the fence, revealing a large hole for Wilbur to crawl through.
"Think again, think again, think again!" cried the mother goose.
Wilbur didn't listen to it. He stepped through the fence and into his pen. It walked to the trough, drank for a long time, sucked milk greedily and chewed puff pastry. It's nice to be home again.
While Wilbur was eating and drinking, Levi brought a hammer and nails and nailed the board again. Then he and Mr. Zuckerman scratched Wilbur's back with a stick.
"This little pig is really good." Levi said.
"Yes, it will grow into a good pig," said Mr. Zuckerman.
Wilbur heard these two words of praise for it. It felt the hot milk in its belly. It felt the stick tickling its itchy back comfortably. It feels peaceful, happy and sleepy. It's been a tiring afternoon. It was only about four o'clock, but Wilbur was already going to sleep.
"I am too young to go out into the world alone." It said in its heart as it lay down.
Chapter name: Chapter 1 4 Loneliness
Chapter 1 4 Loneliness
It rained the next day and the sky was gloomy. The rain fell on the barn roof and trickled down from the eaves; the rain fell on the barn yard and flowed into the path of thistles and pigweeds; The pipes gurgled at Mrs. Zuckerman's kitchen window; rain fell on the backs of the sheep grazing in the meadow. The sheep got tired of standing in the rain, so they walked slowly back to the sheepfold along the path.
The rain disrupted Wilbur's plan. Wilbur had planned to go out today and dig a new hole in his pen. It has other plans. Its plan for today is as follows:
Have breakfast at half past six. Skim milk, bread crust, wheat bran, donut crumbs, wheat cakes dripping with maple syrup, potato skins, leftover raisin custard pudding, crispy cereal bar crumbs.
This breakfast is expected to be finished at seven o'clock.
From seven to eight o'clock, Wilbur planned to chat with Templeton. Templeton is the rat who lives under the trough. Talking to Templeton wasn't the most interesting thing in the world, but it was better than nothing.
From eight to nine o'clock, Wilbur planned to take a nap outside in the sun.
From nine o'clock to eleven o'clock, it plans to dig a hole or dig a trench. In this way, it may be able to find some good food buried in the soil.
From eleven o'clock to twelve o'clock, it plans to stand motionless and watch the flies on the board, the bees in the red flowers and grass, and the swallows in the sky.
Have lunch at twelve o'clock. Wheat bran, hot water, apple peels, gravy, carrot peels, meat scraps, stale corn flakes, cheese wrappers. It’s about one o’clock after lunch.
From one to two o'clock, Wilbur planned to go to bed.
From two o'clock to three o'clock, it planned to scratch its itch against the fence.
From three o'clock to four o'clock, it planned to stand still, thinking about what it was like to be alive, while waiting for Fern to come.
At four o'clock, dinner was probably over. Skimmed milk, dry feed, leftover sandwiches from Levi's lunch box, plum peels, a little of this and that, fried potatoes, a few drops of jam, a little of this and that, a piece of baked apple, a bit of fruitcake.
Wilbur fell asleep thinking about these plans. It woke up at six o'clock and saw that it was raining. It couldn't stand it.
"I had planned everything beautifully, but it just rained." It said.
It stood in the room disappointedly for a long time. Then it walked to the door and looked out. Raindrops hit its face. Its pen was cold and damp. There was an inch of water in its trough. Not even a shadow of Templeton could be seen.
"Are you out there, Templeton?" cried Wilbur. No answer. Wilbur suddenly felt lonely and had no friends.
"It's the same every day," it complained. "I'm too young. I have no real friends here in the barn. It's going to rain all morning and all afternoon. The weather is so bad. Fern won't It's coming. Oh, my God!" Wilbur cried again, for the second time in two days.
At half past six, Wilbur heard the banging of the barrel. Levi was standing outside in the rain stirring his breakfast.
"Come on, little pig!" Levi called it.
Wilbur remained motionless. Levi fell down and swabbed his feet, scraped the bucket clean, and left. He noticed something was wrong with the little pig.
Wilbur doesn’t want food, he wants love. It wants a friend—a friend who is willing to play with it. He spoke to the goose sitting quietly in the corner of the sheep pen.
"Will you come over and play with me?" it asked.
"Sorry--sorry--sorry," said the goose, "I'm hatching-hatching-hatching my eggs. Eight eggs. I gotta keep them warm- - It's hot. I have to squat here and stay still. I'm a responsible--responsible--responsible mother goose. I don't even play with the eggs. I'm waiting for the goslings. "Of course, I don't think you're waiting for the woodpecker to be born," said Wilbur sarcastically.
Wilbur next tried asking a little lamb.
"Can you play with me?" it asked.
"Of course not," said the little lamb. "First, I can't go into your pen. I'm not old enough to jump over the fence. Second, I'm not interested in pigs." To me, a pig is worth less than zero. "
"Less than zero, what do you mean?" Wilbur replied, "I don't think there is anything. It will be less than zero. Zero is zero, nothing. This has reached the limit. How can anything be less than zero? If there is something less than zero, then this zero cannot be. To be zero, there must be something - even just a little something. If zero is zero, then there is nothing less than it."
"Oh, stop it!" said the little lamb. , "You go and play by yourself! Anyway, I don't play with pigs."
Wilbur was very sad and had to lie down and listen to the sound of rain. Soon he saw the mouse climbing down a sloping board, which it used as a staircase.
"Will you play with me, Templeton?" Wilbur asked him.
"Play?" Templeton twirled his mustache, "Play? I simply don't know what the word play means."
"Play," Will Bo said, “It means playing, playing, running and jumping, having fun.
"
"I would never do such a thing if I could avoid it," replied the mouse tartly. "I would rather spend my time eating, gnawing, spying, and hiding. I'm a big eater and not a pleasure seeker. Now I'm going to your trough to eat your breakfast, since you don't want to eat it yourself. "Templeton, the mouse, said as he secretly climbed along the wall and got into the tunnel he dug between the door and the trough of the pig pen. Templeton is a cunning and clever mouse, and he has many tricks. This tunnel It is an example of his skill and cunning that he can get from the barn to his hiding place under the trough without having to go above ground. He has tunnels and passages all over Mr. Zuckerman's farm to get from one place to another. It usually sleeps in a place without being seen, and only goes out after dark.
Wilbur watched it disappear into the tunnel, and in a blink of an eye, he saw its pointed nose emerging from under the wooden trough. Reach out. Templeton carefully climbed over the edge of the trough and entered the trough. Watching his breakfast being eaten by others on this terrible rainy day was simply intolerable to Wilbur. , in the pouring rain, Templeton was soaked there, but it couldn't make him feel better. He had no friends, was depressed, and was hungry. He couldn't help but fell on the fertilizer and cried. p>
Later that afternoon, Levi went to Mr. Zuckerman and said, "I think there's something wrong with that little piggy of yours. It doesn't even touch the food it eats. "
"Give it two spoonfuls of sulfur and a little honey. " said Mr. Zuckerman.
When Levi grabbed Wilbur and forced the medicine down his throat, Wilbur couldn't believe they were doing this to him. This was really it The worst day of his life. He really didn't know if he could endure this terrible loneliness.
Soon the only sounds were shadows and sheep chewing grass. There was also the occasional rattling of cattle chains overhead, so you can imagine how startled Wilbur was when a small sound came from the darkness that he had never heard before. Very thin, but nice. "Do you want a friend, Wilbur?" "The voice said, "I can leave your friend. I've been watching you all day and I like you. "
"But I can't see you," Wilbur jumped up and said, "Where are you? Who are you? "
"I'm up here," the voice said. "Go to sleep. You will see me tomorrow morning. ”