Knights of the Art | Page 5

from the blazing sun as it rode high in
the blue sky, and the grass which grew among the grey rocks was often
burnt and brown. But, nevertheless, it was here that the sheep of the
village would be turned out to find what food they could, tended and
watched by one of the village boys.
So it happened that when Giotto was ten years old his father sent him to
take care of the sheep upon the hillside. Country boys had then no
schools to go to or lessons to learn, and Giotto spent long happy days,
in sunshine and rain, as he followed the sheep from place to place,
wherever they could find grass enough to feed on. But Giotto did
something else besides watching his sheep. Indeed, he sometimes
forgot all about them, and many a search he had to gather them all
together again. For there was one thing he loved doing better than all
beside, and that was to try to draw pictures of all the things he saw
around him.
It was no easy matter for the little shepherd lad. He had no pencils or
paper, and he had never, perhaps, seen a picture in all his life. But all
this mattered little to him. Out there, under the blue sky, his eyes made
pictures for him out of the fleecy white clouds as they slowly changed
from one form to another. He learned to know exactly the shape of

every flower and how it grew; he noticed how the olive-trees laid their
silver leaves against the blue background of the sky that peeped in
between, and how his sheep looked as they stooped to eat, or lay down
in the shadow of a rock.
Nothing escaped his keen, watchful eyes, and then with eager hands he
would sharpen a piece of stone, choose out the smoothest rock, and try
to draw on its flat surface all those wonderful shapes which had filled
his eyes with their beauty. Olive-trees, flowers, birds and beasts were
there, but especially his sheep, for they were his friends and
companions who were always near him, and he could draw them in a
different way each time they moved.
Now it fell out that one day a great master painter from Florence came
riding through the valley and over the hills where Giotto was feeding
his sheep. The name of the great master was Cimabue, and he was the
most wonderful artist in the world, so men said. He had painted a
picture which had made all Florence rejoice. The Florentines had never
seen anything like it before, and yet it was but a strange- looking
portrait of the Madonna and Child, scarcely like a real woman or a real
baby at all. Still, it seemed to them a perfect wonder, and Cimabue was
honoured as one of the city's greatest men.
The road was lonely as it wound along. There was nothing to be seen
but waves of grey hills on every side, so the stranger rode on, scarcely
lifting his eyes as he went. Then suddenly he came upon a flock of
sheep nibbling the scanty sunburnt grass, and a little brown-faced
shepherd-boy gave him a cheerful `Good-day, master.'
There was something so bright and merry in the boy's smile that the
great man stopped and began to talk to him. Then his eye fell upon the
smooth flat rock over which the boy had been bending, and he started
with surprise.
`Who did that?' he asked quickly, and he pointed to the outline of a
sheep scratched upon the stone.
`It is the picture of one of my sheep there,' answered the boy, hanging

his head with a shame- faced look. `I drew it with this,' and he held out
towards the stranger the sharp stone he had been using.
`Who taught you to do this?' asked the master as he looked more
carefully at the lines drawn on the rock.
The boy opened his eyes wide with astonishment `Nobody taught me,
master,' he said. `I only try to draw the things that my eyes see.'
`How would you like to come with me to Florence and learn to be a
painter?' asked Cimabue, for he saw that the boy had a wonderful
power in his little rough hands.
Giotto's cheeks flushed, and his eyes shone with joy.
`Indeed, master, I would come most willingly,' he cried, `if only my
father will allow it.'
So back they went together to the village, but not before Giotto had
carefully put his sheep into the fold, for he was never one to leave his
work half done.
Bondone was amazed to see his boy in company with such a grand
stranger, but he was still more surprised when he heard