Part 29 (1/2)

”This is where I live, dear,” said the wind. ”I live upon the hill; sometimes I go to the sea, and sometimes to the woods, and sometimes I run through the valley, but I always come back here, and you may always be sure of finding me here; and I want you to come and romp with me.”

”I will come,” said Bevis; ”I like a romp, but are you very rough?”

”Oh no, dear; not with you.”

”I am a great big boy,” said Bevis; ”I am eating my peck of salt very fast: I shall soon get too big to romp with you. How old are you, you jolly Wind?”

The wind laughed and said: ”I am older than all the very old things. I am as old as the brook.”

”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 pus.h.i.+ng 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.”

”I will come to you,” said Bevis; ”do not be sorry. I will come and play with you.”

”Yes, do,” said the wind; ”and drink me, dear, as much as ever you can.

I shall make you strong. Now drink me.”

Bevis stood still and drew in a long, long breath, drinking the wind till his chest was full and his heart beat quicker. Then he jumped and danced and shouted.

”There,” said the wind, ”see, how jolly I have made you. It was I who made you dance and sing, and run along the hill just now. Come up here, my darling Sir Bevis, and drink me as often as ever you can, and the more you drink of me the happier you will be, and the longer you will live. And people will look at you and say: 'How jolly he looks! Is he not nice? I wish I was like him.' And presently they will say: 'Where does he learn all these things?'

”For you must know, Bevis, my dear, that although I have forgotten my stories, yet they are all still there in my mind, and by-and-by, if you keep on drinking me I shall tell you all of them, and n.o.body will know how you learn it all. For I know more than the brook, because, you see, I travel about everywhere: and I know more than the trees; indeed, all they know I taught them myself. The sun is always telling me everything, and the stars whisper to me at night: the ocean roars at me: the earth whispers to me: just you lie down, Bevis love, upon the ground and listen.”

So Bevis lay down on the gra.s.s, and heard the wind whispering in the tufts and bunches, and the earth under him answered, and asked the wind to stay and talk. But the wind said: ”I have got Bevis to-day: come on, Bevis,” and Bevis stood up and walked along.

”Besides all these things,” said the wind, ”I can remember everything that ever was. There never was anything that I cannot remember, and my mind is so clear that if you will but come up here and drink me, you will understand everything.”

”Well then,” said Bevis, ”I will drink you--there, I have just had such a lot of you: now tell me this instant why the sun is up there, and is he very hot if you touch him, and which way does he go when he sinks beyond the wood, and who lives up there, and are they nice people, and who painted the sky?”

The wind laughed aloud, and said: ”Bevis, my darling, you have not drunk half enough of me yet, else you would never ask such silly questions as that. Why, those are like the silly questions the people ask who live in the houses of the cities, and never feel me or taste me, or speak to me.