the bank: there was one head-downwards in a puddle; and another had got stuck fast in the wattle-fence, and was kicking away and couldn’t get out. In one word, I had scattered the might of the devil till it melted away like wax! So there I stood alone in the middle of the battle-field, and said: ‘What have you done with me, you villains?’” At this point in his story the giant was magnificent to behold, but the lad who stood listening to him was still more magnificent. When the miller told how he had “hammered and banged,” accompanying the narration with appropriate gestures, the arms and legs and whole body of the lad were continually in motion. He was utterly unable, while looking at the miller, to refrain from imitating his gestures. He kept squaring his elbows, and thrusting his fist into empty space, and more than once came into collision with the thin red-wood door of the cabin. “What are you smashing the door for, you heathen idol?” exclaimed the steward, severely. But though the lad glanced round at the words, he evidently did not understand them; and the miller, for his part, had worked himself up into such a state of fury that he paid no heed to either the lad or the steward or the audience, who could not refrain from smiling. “‘What have you done with me, you shameless scoundrels?’” he continued, frantically. “‘What right have you? Do you think the law allows such things? Why, it’s robbery and violence! Come near me if you dare! I’ll kill you outright! I’ll tear you in pieces!...’ There I stood, blazing away at them, and never noticed that they were getting back their senses and coming at me again. Suddenly I looked back, and if there wasn’t the whole squadron coming up behind me.... Up they came; and if you’d seen the way they rushed at me from behind, and the way they set off shouting—it’s just a wonder I’m alive!... ‘Ah! so we’re attacked in the discharge of our duty! Ah! ah! ah! So that’s what you go in for!... You’ve got a box!... If that’s it, my lads, give the great hulking fellow what for!’” Here the lad nearly choked with laughter, but restrained himself. “‘Hammer him black and blue!...’ And what came next?... They blew their whistles, and sprang their rattles, and banged their truncheons, and fire seemed to come out of my head and out of my ears, and my neck was just like red-hot iron.... I heard some one say, ‘There’s an important telegram about him; he’s got a box.’... And I shouted to them, ‘There’s varnish in it—varnish!...’ ‘Oho! Varnish! Pay him out, my lads, pay him out well!’” At this point the lad could restrain himself no longer; he burst out laughing, turned to run out into the passage, and striking his head violently against the lintel of the door, literally tumbled down at the foot of the stairs in a fit of laughter. The narrator looked severely at him, but continued—