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Two-Legs had grown so old that no one now knew his age.
His family was constantly increasing and dispersed over the whole earth. When people thought that they were becoming too many in one place, then some of them broke up and moved to others, where the land was new. They reclaimed it, extracted metals from the mountains and sailed on the rivers and the sea. Railways and steamboats ran from one end of the earth to the other.
People went so far apart that they spoke different languages and no longer knew one another. In every country there were clever men who made new and marvellous discoveries that lightened the work of their brethren and made them richer and happier.
Each time that a man made one of these discoveries, he went off to Two-Legs, wherever he might happen to be, to show it to him and receive his praise, for he was honoured by them all as the father of the whole race and the wisest of all who lived on earth.
Two-Legs himself no longer had any idea of the number of his descendants; and it seemed as if he simply did not care. He lived now with one tribe of his people and now with the other, always alone in a house to himself, where he could quietly indulge in thought. Often, young men came to him to learn from him. Then he gave them of his wisdom and sent them out into the world again; but what he thought of in his inmost self he talked about to no one.
When he sat outside his house and gazed and pondered, the voices spoke to him as before:
“Two-Legs ... the lord of the earth ... the vanquisher of the animals....”
“Two-Legs ... who conquered the wind and made it his servant, as he did with the ox and the horse....”
“Two-Legs ... who tamed the wild steam and imprisoned it in the engine, which now has to obey his commands and do his errands....”
Two-Legs listened to the voices.
He patted the dog, who lay at his feet:
“You were once a wild and fierce animal and now you are gentle and serve me faithfully,” he said.
He listened to the wind, who was whispering in the trees:
“You can cool my forehead on a hot day and you can rush over the earth like a wild monster,” he said. “I know you and I use you.”
He looked across the meadow, where the mist was rising and the fine white steam floated to and fro:
“You, too,” he said and nodded. “You are as light as a veil and dainty and white and innocent. The poets sing of you and you make little children cough. But you are the same that burst the mountain and destroyed my land. I watched you and discovered you and caught you and put you in my engine; and now you must toil for my descendants the wide world over.”
The thunder rolled in the distance. There came long and deep peals. Now and again, a flash of lightning gleamed and lit up the darkness. And the voices spoke again:
“It is thunder, Two-Legs ... it is lightning.... You do not know what that is. No one knows what it is.”
“The world is full of mighty, secret forces ... mightier than the wind ... harder to understand than steam.”
“The ox and the horse tremble before the thunder and the lightning. Two-Legs and all his descendants tremble wherever the thunder-storm reaches. There is more between heaven and earth than Two-Legs knows of.”
The storm came nearer. The thunder pealed and the lightning-flashes crackled. Those who lived close came running to Two-Legs’ house in great alarm:
“Father Two-Legs, what shall we do?” they cried. “God’s wrath is upon us.... Look, look, His fire has struck the house yonder. Now it’s burning; it is all in flames!”
Two-Legs did not look at the blazing house, but up at the clouds, where the thunder pealed and the lightning-flashes darted:
“That is not God’s wrath,” he said. “It is a strange force up there in the clouds ... stronger than the wind ... stronger than Steam. Oh, if I could catch it and compel it to serve me, as I compel the ox and the horse and the others!”
They heard what he said and looked at one another in affright.
Much as they honoured and loved him, they thought that this was madman’s talk. For how could any one dream of taking the terrible lightning into his service?
“Two-Legs has grown old,” said one to the other. “He is in his dotage and does not know what he is saying.”
Two-Legs did not listen to them, but continued to gaze at the storm overhead:
“Look! See how the lightning darts!” he said. “In a second, it darts from one horizon to the other!... Oh, if I could put it into my carriage!”
They recoiled from him, so frightened were they at his words.
“Look! See how the lightning shines!” he said. “In a second, it is as light as bright noonday!... Oh, if I could catch the lightning’s light and hold it fast and compel it to shine peacefully for human beings!”
One of the elders went up to him and laid his hand on his shoulder:
“Two-Legs,” he said, “the success you have had has driven you mad. Your talk is foolish. You are tempting God.”
“God kindled the lightning and God kindled my understanding,” said Two-Legs. “He gave me the one that I might explore the other. Go away and mind your own business and leave me alone.”
They went away. Two-Legs stood and gazed till the last lightning had vanished from the sky.