6
Next morning early, Two-Legs set to work. He built a big scaffold, which rose high in the air. At the top, he fixed four broad sails, which were covered with hides and fastened to an axle, so that they could whirl round and round easily. That was the cap of the mill. The mill-stones were put down at the bottom and were connected with the sails, by means of poles and ropes, in such a way that, when the sails whirled round and round, the stones turned. Two-Legs’ children stood wondering and looking at it.
“We are not ready yet,” said Two-Legs.
He arranged the cap so that it could turn and the sails catch the wind, whichever side it came from:
“Now we’ll grind,” said Two-Legs.
And the wind came and turned the sails; and the mill ground that it was a joy to see. They poured the grain into the top of the mill and the fine, white flour dropped into sacks which they fastened underneath.
“I caught you again, friend Wind,” said Two-Legs.
“I shall blow the other way to-morrow,” said the wind.
“Indeed, I thought of that,” said Two-Legs. “I don’t mind if you do.”
When evening came, he turned the cap round. The next morning the wind came from the other side and had to grind just as briskly as the day before.
“I shall go down to-morrow,” said the wind.
“It’s only right that you should take a rest now and then,” said Two-Legs, pleasantly. “The horse and the ox do as much and so do the other beasts of burden in my service. I daresay you will get up again when you must.”
“Who says I must?” said the wind.
“I don’t know,” said Two-Legs. “Not yet. But I am meditating upon it and I shall find out sooner or later. You see, one hits upon everything by degrees, when one sits and looks at things. I know this much already, that it’s the sun that gives you your orders.”
“How do you know that?” asked the wind.
“I’ve noticed it,” said Two-Legs. “Whenever it changes from cold to warm or from warm to cold, you blow from a fresh quarter.”
“What a clever man you are!” said the wind.
“It helps,” said Two-Legs.
“But there is still a hard nut for you to crack,” said the wind. “For, even if you can’t put me to your ship and your mill, I can come rushing up, for all that, as I did once before, and knock down the mill and smash up the ship and scatter your cattle all over the country.”
“You can,” said Two-Legs. “And I can’t be angry with you for it either, for you are neither bad nor good, as you said.”
“Well, well, now I’m going down,” said, the wind. “And I don’t think I shall get up again for ever so many days. Then your mill will stand still.”
“So it will,” said Two-Legs. “But I have thought of that, too. Come over here and see.”
He went down to the brook and showed, the wind another mill which he had built. It had no sails, but a big wheel with wide floats, which went down into the water. The wheel was connected with the mill-stones in the same way as the sails and, as the water ran, the wheel turned and the mill-stones ground.
“That’s my water-mill,” said Two-Legs, proudly.
Then he went into his tent and lay down to sleep, for it was late and all the others had gone to bed.
The wind lay down too, as he had said, and so they all lay and slept.
