"Friends," said Juan, "is a storm blowing?"
"No, sir!" answered the sailors, amazed at the sight.
"Master Juan," shouted Mirin Miron, "sitting on the summit of yonder
mountain," pointing to a peak three miles away, "is a man blowing
with all his might."
"He is a naughty fellow," muttered Juan to himself; "he will destroy
all the lumber-trees in this region if we do not stop him." Pretty
soon Juan himself saw the mischievous man, and said, "Soplin Soplon,
[41] son of the great Blast-Blower, what are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm just exercising my lungs and trumpeter's muscles," replied
the other.
"Come along with us!" After blowing down a long line of trees like
grain before a hurricane, Soplin Soplon went on board.
As the ship neared the capital, Juan saw a man lying on a bed of
rushes, with his ear to the ground. "What are you doing, friend?" said
Juan.
"I'm listening to the plaintive strains of a young man mourning
over the grave of his deceased sweetheart, and to the touching
love-ditties of a moonstruck lover," answered the man. "Where are
those two men?" asked Juan.
"They are in a city twelve miles away," said the other.
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