“Oh, father,” wailed all the others. “Oh, father, our ship is gone!”
Old Wind-and-Weather was not disturbed in the least.
“Indeed?” he said.—“I see it.”
“Oh, where?” cried all the children.
“Over the little hills, over the little valleys, over the little fields, over the little forests,” said Wind-and-Weather, “I see the mast against the sky.”
“Oh, there!” cried Handsig, and “There!” cried Grandsig, and “There!” they all cried together.
With one leap they started, plunging down across England. From hill to hill, from valley to valley, over field, farm, and forest they raced, stubbing their toes against towns and jumping over villages when they happened to see them. Wind-and-Weather strode along after them, a mile at a step; and was at the seashore as soon as they.
Now, the three hundred sailors aboard the giants’ ship were hardly over their fright at having their big craft stuck between the cliffs when they were thrown into a much greater panic at hearing the giants’ footsteps beating down across England. They huddled in the stern; they hid behind the mast; they scuttled this way and that. They tussled and scrambled and scrimmaged and scratched, each one trying to get behind his neighbor. Finally, as they saw Wind-and-Weather’s huge form bearing down upon them, every mother’s son of them took a wild leap and plunged recklessly into the sea.
Dare-and-Do and Catch-and-Kill did not jump. They had been in plenty of panics before, and it was always their policy to stay by the ship. So, they sat, one on Fear-and-Fly’s head, the other on his feet, and waited the coming of the giants.
