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Every drop of blood in the girl's body tingled with excitement, all her muscles thrilled with mad desire to mount the wondrous beast and be away as on the wind's wings. She could imagine what the mare's long strides would be, she could imagine how exhilerating she would find the steady, perfect motion of the mighty back. "Oh, I can't stand it!" she exclaimed, at length. "I've got to do it!"
"There's nothing sailors hate more than a fog. They can go to sleep in a hurricane between the rolls of a ship, but a fog keeps them awake. It's the one thing they can't shirk. There's the skipper tumbled up, too! The old man looks wrathy, don't he? But it's no use now; we're going slap into it, and the wind's failing!" It was true.
Danny Meadow Mouse sat in his doorway and looked down the Lone Little Path across the Green Meadows. Way, way over near the Smiling Pool he could see Old Mother West Wind's Children, the Merry Little Breezes, at play. Sammy Jay was sitting on a fence post. He pretended to be taking a sun bath, but really he was planning mischief. You never see Sammy Jay that he isn't in mischief or planning it.
At the sound of the laughter, old Lizzie gave a sigh as though some of her own tense nerves had relaxed. "Now see here," growled Kent, "they've got no business to shut you up this way. You come out and skate for a while. The wind's blown the snow till there's lots of clear places. I got up here without much trouble. We won't meet anybody at this end of the lake."
That very same night, after Diamond had been asleep for a little, he awoke all at once in the dark. "Open the window, Diamond," said a voice. Now Diamond's mother had once more pasted up North Wind's window. "Are you North Wind?" said Diamond. "I do not hear you blowing." "No, but you hear me talking. Open the window for I haven't over much time." "Yes," said Diamond.
"The wind's not dropped. It's shifted, and the fire's working back," he said. In another moment Weston stood gasping in the doorway. A little chilly breeze, such as often draws down from the ranges in early morning, met him in the face, and the air was thick with drifting smoke.
When the dense gloom of the pass lightened, and there was a wide space of sky and stars overhead, Ladd halted and stood silent a moment. "Luck again!" he whispered. "The wind's in your face, Jim. The horses won't scent you. Go slow. Don't crack a stone. Keep close under the wall. Try to get up as high as this at the other end. Wait till daylight before riskin' a loose slope.
Coming, according to what he had purposed, close to the man-of-war, he received her fire, and then hoisted his black flag and returned it, shooting away from her with all the sail he could pack; and had he taken Armstrong's advice to have gone before the wind, he had probably escaped; but keeping his tacks down, either by the wind's shifting, or ill steerage, or both, he was taken aback with his sails, and the Swallow came a second time very nigh to him.
"An' what's more, your wind's all gone you couldn't go five rounds wi' a good 'un!" "Couldn't I?" "No!" shrieked the Old Un, "you'd be 'anging on an' blowing like a grampus!" "Should I?" "Ah like a grampus!" "Right-o!" nodded Joe, turning away, "no jam for your tea to-night."
How often it had been her lullaby, before she learned to read its language; how gaily it had piped for others; how plaintively it had sung for him, alone and in the night; and now how full of pathetic music was that hymn of consolation fitfully whispered by the wind's soft breath.
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