A Book for Kids | Page 6

my poor brothers," answered the big Blue-gum very sadly,
"Those are trees going down before the big wind. The birds were
bringing me messages from those poor fellows quite lately; and now I
shall never hear from them again. It's very sad."
"I never thought the wind could blow down big trees," said the Little
House.
"No tree knows when his time will come," the big Blue-gum answered
gravely. "I've had some very narrow escapes in my time, as tree and
sapling on this mountain."
The Little Red House was very quiet and thoughtful for a long time
after that. Then he asked suddenly, "Which way do you think you
would fall if you did fall?"
But the big Blue-gum said that he couldn't tell. It depended on the wind,

and he might fall any way.
"Not on me!" cried the Little House.
The Blue-gum said that he didn't know; but he hoped not.
"If you DID fall on me," said the Little Red House, "I suppose it would
hurt me."
The Blue-gum said it certainly would, and there would be very little
left but splinters and glass.
"Then don't! Please don't," yelled the Little Red House.
But before they could say another word the great wind struck them with
a roar. It tossed the roses about so that the eyebrows of the Little House
seemed to be twitching horribly; and it swayed the big Blue-gum this
way and that till he appeared to be fighting for his very life. It picked
up the fallen leaves and twigs, and even small stones, and hurled them
down the mountain in a cloud.
In the midst of all the uproar the Little House heard the Blue-gum
calling to him.
"As long as I've lived upon this mountain, tree and sapling," he shouted,
"I've never known such a wind. I'm not so young as I used to be, and I
fear that my end has come."
"Be brave! Oh, be brave!" implored the Little Red House. "Don't let
him blow you down. I should be so sorry to lose you, What are you
grunting for?"
"I'm bot grunting," answered the Blue-gym in a pained voice. "Those
are my roots giving way, one by one. I can't stand much more of this.
Look out!"
The Little Red House looked up, and what he saw terrified him. The
big Blue-gum, in the clutch of the wind, was bent right over him, so
that the top branches seemed to be just above his roof; and the great

tree appeared to be falling, falling, helplessly.
"Don't fall on me!" shrieked the Little Red House. "Oh, don't fall on me;
because, if you do, you know you'll squash me! I don't want to be
squashed!"
But the big Blue-gum said, "There is just one little root holding now. If
that gives way we are both done for."
"Be brave! Oh, be brave!" shrieked the Little Red House.
Then slowly, very slowly, the big Blue-gum began to straighten up
again, away from the Little Red House.
"I have stood upon this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a hundred
years," he said when he had recovered; "but if it blows like that again,
it is the end of me."
But it did not blow like that again; though the wind howled and
shrieked all that day as if it was very angry and disappointed that it
could not blow down the big Blue-gum.
Then, towards evening, the wind fell; the heavy clouds went away
beyond the edge of the sky, and all became very calm and peaceful.
The birds came from their hiding places and sat in the branches of the
Blue-gum and chattered away to him, until he began to feel quite
cheerful once more, in spite of his trouble. And when a certain little
Tree-creeper--a very wise bird-- came and had a long, serious talk with
the Blue-gum, he became very much interested indeed and quite happy.
But the the Little Red House was miserable still; and the beauty of the
evening didn't cheer him up one bit.
"Ah, well," said the Blue-gum, when the darkness came to the
mountain, "I am going to have a good sleep tonight. I'm a match still
for old Daddy Wind, in spite of all his noise and bluster. And there are
ways of dealing with white-ants, too. I've lived upon this mountain, tree

and sapling, for--"
But as he was talking he fell fast asleep.
The Little Red House did not sleep. How could he, with his eyes wide
open? So he just stood there all night staring before him, lonely and
wretched. And when an owl came and sat in the tree and began to call,
"Mopoke," the Little Red House told him rudely to stop his silly noise
and clear out.