Part 7 (1/2)

Hollow-eyed with hunger and anxiety, the Miller sat down and stared at the motionless mill. Something must be done! Unless the children could help him earn a penny he must sell their flutes, trombones, trumpets, bugles, fifes, horns, oboes, cornets, ba.s.soons, and piccolos; but what then would become of their wonderful talents for blowing?

”Must all their practice be wasted?” thought the Miller. ”They have blown, they have blown until their breath is as strong as the wind. Ha!

I have an idea!” And jumping up he ran as fast as his legs would carry him to gather his little flock. ”It is an ill babe that blows no good!”

said the Miller to himself.

The Miller found his boys in the mill yard blowing on their ten instruments. Hans the eldest, who was head and shoulders taller than his father, had the huge ba.s.soon, and the baby, who was just able to toddle, grasped a piccolo. All the other brothers big and little, tall and short, were tootling upon their various instruments with their cheeks bulging out like balloons; and the noise was so deafening that the bugs and beetles burrowed down into the ground to escape it, while even the fishes in the well turned over on their backs and fainted from the vibrations. Whenever they were hungry the Miller's sons always blew hardest, because then they forgot about their empty stomachs. Although it was a still day,--so still that the windmill's arms were quite motionless,--when the children blew the notes from their instruments the smoke about the cottage chimney huddled itself together and scudded horizontally away. The trees swayed as if blown by a tempest, and the waters of the duck-pond became humpy with waves; so that the ducks were in danger of drowning. When the Miller saw all this he was delighted, and his face beamed like the sun after a shower.

”Good, my children, good!” he cried. ”You are wonderful little Blowers, and you shall make my fortune yet, though there is not one note of music in the ten of you. But look now; I have an idea! Gather around me and I will tell you.”

The ten children dropped their instruments and crowded eagerly about the Miller, for they hoped that he was going to tell them some way to get a dinner. But instead of this, he led them in a procession straight to the windmill, where it stood lazily holding out its arms for the breeze which did not come.

”Look at that lazy windmill!” said the Miller. ”He has ground no meal for a whole day, and we have no money to buy food. Now, children, open your mouths and blow, _blow_, as hard as you know how, to see whether you cannot blow wind into his sails and make him go.”

So the ten boys stood in a row, and at a signal took in a deep breath.

When the Miller counted ”One--two--_three_!” they made round mouths and blew out a long breath, straight towards the windmill's nearest arm. And lo! Instantly the sails filled, and the great windmill spun around like mad, whether it would or no. The Miller's idea was wonderful! The children jumped up and down, clapping their hands. Why had they never thought of this before? This was better than blowing instruments!

The Miller told the children to keep on blowing, and ran into the mill to fill the hopper with grain. The white flour went sifting into the bags till their sides were plump and firm. In a few moments all the grain was ground, and the Miller was on his way to deliver the bags to neighbor Huss. And deaf old Huss was so pleased to have his meal ready before he expected it that he paid the Miller double, promising to call again very soon. So now the Miller had money to buy bread for his children; and a fine supper they enjoyed that night, you may be sure.

Best of it all was that their good luck had come to stay. The children gave up their flutes, trombones, trumpets, bugles, fifes, horns, oboes, cornets, ba.s.soons, and piccolos, because they had decided not to be musicians, but mill-blowers instead,--which was a blow to music. After all, they said, their new profession was a more distinguished one. For with practice any one can blow a blast on a trombone, but few families of ten have lungs so mighty that they can blow a windmill when it wants to stand still.

They practiced and they practiced, before and after school. And they grew so skillful that the Miller declared them to be better than any breeze, for they were always ready when he wanted them. On days when no breeze was blowing and all the other windmills in the land were as quiet as the market on Sunday,--then the neighbors flocked to the Miller of the wonderful blowing family, and at his mill they were sure of having their grain ground quickly and well. The Miller was fast growing rich.

He charged double price, always; and, indeed, folk thought it was worth paying a double price to see the Miller's Ten Blowers at their work.

They had neat little uniforms of blue and white, like figures on a tile,--blue trousers and white millers' smocks, and wooden shoes. And they were trained to stand in an orderly row, with big Hans at the head and chubby baby Tod at the foot, all puff-cheeked, ruddy, and broad-chested from much blowing. And they blew all together,--one--_two!_ one--_two!_ one--_two!_--with a sound like a great wind in the chimney on a January night, while the windmill whirled around like a mad thing and seemed ready to blow to pieces. But the on-lookers had to be careful to put a rock in their pockets, or to hold on to something steady, lest they be blown from their feet by the blast which the children blew.

Stories of the Miller's wonderful family spread far and wide, and many folk came to see the little Blowers at their work. They were often asked to show their skill in various ways. Hans might easily have earned his living as a blacksmith's bellows, could his father have spared him from the mill. The village children often coaxed the younger Blowers to blow their kites up into the sky or their sailboats down the ca.n.a.ls. Even the baby earned many a penny by blowing the soot out of the cottage chimneys and the dust from corners in the goodwives' spandy floors. But the Miller himself did not encourage all this. ”Best stick to your home mill, my sons,” he said, ”and good will come of it. Do not waste your breath in blowing small things, and one day your breath shall blow us into fortune.” And this seemed likely to be true; for every day they were becoming more famous and more rich. And all the other millers in the land were so jealous that they could not sleep o' nights.

II

There came a time when the Miller was kept busy indeed, and proudly so.

For he had been commanded by the King himself to grind one thousand sacks of flour for the wedding-cookery of the young Prince, his son. The Prince was to cross the sea to be married to the daughter of the proud King of Outland; and when he had brought his fair bride home there was to be great rejoicing,--feasting and merrymaking at the capital of the Land of Windmills. And the Miller's flour was to make the huge wedding-cake and a little cake for each of the guests. For his share in all this preparation the Miller was to receive a great price,--a bag of gold. So he hurried about, and the children blew, and the windmill whirled, and dusty flour went pouring into the King's sacks, until all was done. Then the Miller sat proudly at the head of his table, surrounded by his proud family, and with the sack of gold in the middle of the board for them to admire.

They were eating their goodly supper and drinking the health of the Prince and his bride, for the morrow was to be the wedding-day. Every one was talking and laughing under his breath--for they dared not laugh aloud nowadays, for fear of blowing out all the lights. Suddenly there came the galloping of horses' hoofs along the highway and a thundering knock at the door.

”Open!” cried a voice. ”A messenger of the King!”