"But the brook is very old," said Bevis. "He told me he was older than the hills, so I do not think you are as old as he is."
"Yes I am," said the wind; "he was always my playfellow; we were children together."
"If you are so very, very old," said Bevis, "it is no use your trying to romp with me, because I am very strong; I can carry my papa's gun on my shoulder, and I can run very fast; do you know the stupid old bailiff can't catch me? I can go round the ricks ever so much quicker than he can."
"I can run quick," said the wind.
"But not so quick as me," said Bevis; "now see if you can catch me."
Away he ran, and for a moment he left the wind behind; but the wind blew a little faster, and overtook him, and they raced along together, like two wild things, till Bevis began to pant. Then down he sat on the turf and kicked up his heels and shouted, and the wind fanned his cheek and cooled him, and kissed his lips and stroked his hair, and caressed him and played with him, till up he jumped again and danced along, the wind always pushing him gently.
"You are a jolly old Wind," said Bevis, "I like you very much; but you must tell me a story, else we shall quarrel. I'm sure we shall."
"I will try," said the wind; "but I have forgotten all my stories, because the people never come to listen to me now."
"Why don't they come?" said Bevis.
"They are too busy," said the wind, sighing; "they are so very, very busy, just like you were with Kapchack and his treasure and the war, and all the rest of the business; they have so much to do, they have quite forsaken me."