Page:Bushland stories.pdf/11

Out on the depths of the deep blue ocean a Wind went wandering. He crept gently over the sleeping water, scarcely disturbing it as he passed. He was looking for some waves to play with, but there were none to be found. The ocean’s face was as smooth as a millpond, without one ripple to break its surface. The first rays of the rising sun stole up over the rim of the distance, but still the waves slept on.

“Lazy things,” said the Wind to himself. “I think I’ll wake them.”

So he puffed out his cheeks as far as he could, and, choosing a spot where the sea was bluest, he blew with all his might.

Instantly a dozen tiny waves sprang up, wide awake.

“What are you doing?” they asked, crossly.

“Come and play,” said the Wind.

“No, it’s too early. We’re going to sleep,” and they turned slowly over and went to sleep again.

All except one little Wave. She had never seen the wind before; for, indeed, she had only