“The lightning is not bad,” said Two-Legs.
“Would you have me call it good?” said the man. “It set my barn on fire and burnt it. And there’s a man standing yonder whose wife was killed and all his cattle.”
Two-Legs gave a scornful smile. He quite forgot that he himself had once thought just like that of the wind and of Steam:
“The lightning is neither good nor bad,” he said. “It is a mighty force that comes and darts as it must. I don’t want to lure it down to the earth either. But, if it comes here, over my house, and thinks of striking ... then it will be caught by the spike at the top of the pole and fly down the wire into the earth; and my house will escape.”
“Two-Legs is mad,” said the man. “He is calling the lightning down upon himself.”
The others said the same and then they went away. The boy remained with him and looked at the lightning-conductor. And, when the next thunder-storm came, the lightning struck two farm-houses in the valley and burnt them to the ground. It also struck the pole near Two-Legs’ house and rushed down into the earth, as he had said. This was easy to see by the way in which it had rooted up and flung stones and gravel around.
They came running from every side and saw it and wondered. They bowed low before Two-Legs and honoured his wisdom; and one and all of them set a lightning-conductor beside their houses.
But Two-Legs thought no more of it:
“That’s nothing,” he said. “It is just as when I killed the wild animals. It was a bigger thing when I tamed them and took them into my service. I want to tame the lightning also and make it my servant.”
“Two-Legs wants to tame the lightning,” said one to the other and laughed and thought that he had certainly lost his reason.